The Insurance Policy
by Meyers1020
Summary: Sirius Black knows better than most just how quickly even the best-laid plans can go awry when war begins in earnest. Fearing the worst, he developed a back-up plan to protect the two people most important to him. Post-OOTP Canon-divergence.
1. Prologue

**Hey everyone! This is the first H/G story I've written. It's something I didn't think I'd ever do actually, so thank you to everyone over on the H/G Discord (The Ginny Lovers) for the encouragement, feedback, and their overall enthusiasm. There are a lot of spectacular people there, but special thanks to deadwoodpecker, iKingBearII, and Loquacious Lotus Blossom. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy it!**

Prologue

Sirius Black approached the kitchen of his family home with no small amount of trepidation. He knew what he was about to suggest to Arthur and Molly Weasley was not going to be received well. Quite honestly, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea himself. All he knew was that he had spent the last sixty-nine days searching for something, anything, that could protect his godson from the dangers that Voldemort would no doubt unleash upon the magical world now that he had regained his body, and this was the best solution he could come up with. Countless hours searching his memories, old family journals, and even the questionable but expansive library of his ancestral home had left him with no other viable options.

Unfortunately for him and everyone else involved, "this" was a bit of old blood magic, only used in the most uncertain of times, and was the closest thing to Dark magic that Sirius had ever considered using in all his life. If things weren't so dire- if Harry hadn't been attacked by dementors in Little Whinging and then forced to appear before the Wizengamot for simply defending himself against the attack, and thus demonstrating that Harry was facing danger from all sides- then perhaps Sirius wouldn't even be considering it now. Things being what they were, however, he could think of no other alternative.

Sirius knew this, but he still felt the uncertainty writhing in his stomach like a living being. It wasn't simply the fact that it could be construed as Dark because it was tied inextricably into the blood and magic of all parties involved, but it was also that the main subjects of the magic would not be offered any say in the matter.

_They didn't need to worry about it just yet. Protecting them was the most important thing, isn't it? Besides, they would only need to be aware of it if the worst should come to pass. This is just an insurance policy_, Sirius reminded himself. Try as he might though, he couldn't get the expression of loathing and indignation on Ginny Weasley's face out of his mind.

When he first came across it in an old Black family journal, he had simply stared at the book for a long time, weighing the pros and cons, before becoming frustrated by his internal battle and resting his head against the table to clear his mind. He must have been more tired than he assumed because the next thing he knew Ginny was shaking him awake. When he lifted his head, he could see the confusion, surprise, disappointment, and anger spread across her face one by one, until she looked directly into his eyes and unleashed a tongue lashing on him unlike any he had ever received before. "Harry deserves to love and to be loved in return- genuinely loved, not just because of who he is or circumstances out of his control- more than _anyone_. I thought _you_ of all people would understand that," she had hissed at him.

Sirius physically shook his head to try and dispel the memory. He was taking every precaution he could, even if they weren't ideal. And Harry would be genuinely loved. He was certain of that much at least.

Pushing forward, he opened the door and headed into the kitchen, where he thankfully found Molly and Arthur alone. Arthur greeted him kindly with a warm smile on his face, which was returned gratefully by Sirius. Molly greeted him as well, but there was a slightly guarded nature to her more subdued greeting that made Sirius lose his nerve. He tried to put extra warmth into his thanks when she offered him a cup of tea.

There was silence as they all sipped at their cups. His thoughts started racing and his heart pounded as he tried to work up the nerve to raise the topic. Maybe he was wrong. They would never agree to what he was about to suggest. How could he even entertain the idea? Molly hated him. She didn't trust him at all. _This_ definitely wouldn't help matters.

Just as he was about to decide to toss it all aside and renew his search, the small, excitable owl Sirius had given Ron arrived with two letters from Ginny, one addressed to "Mum and Dad" and the other to "Snuffles". He couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face at the sight.

Ginny had actually been the one to nickname him Snuffles after she had come across him in his animagus form on the bank of the Black Lake during her second year. He had been sick and cold, and in his dog form his congestion had come across as a strange sniffling, grunting sound that Ginny couldn't resist commenting on. From that afternoon forward, Ginny Weasley unknowingly held his heart in the palm of her hand.

Despite finding humor in the strange sounds he was making, Ginny had shown him nothing but compassion. Without hesitation, she had offered him her second-hand cloak, even though it was the nicer of the only two that she owned. She had tucked it around him, apologized that she couldn't bring him into the castle since they didn't allow dogs as pets, and offered him some food from her bag. She returned as often as was feasible with food, blankets, and even some medicine she had acquired from Hagrid on his behalf. Naturally, he hadn't actually been able to use the medicine, seeing as canine medicine wasn't likely to work as he wasn't actually a dog, but all that she had done for him had meant everything to him and he would be forever grateful for it. Beyond the fact that she had likely saved his life that winter, she had also been the first truly good thing to happen to him since before that fateful Halloween night in 1981.

The smile fell from his face as he remembered why she had been out walking the perimeter of the lake in such frigid temperatures when every other living being that resided in the castle remained indoors. By the start of her second year, Ginny was able to shove the dark horrors of her first year into the back of her mind around others, so that she could present a front of positivity and optimism when necessary, but found it exhausting to maintain. She struggled through the darkness in her way, seeking solitude on the grounds as most people were too frightened by the dementors' presence to wander out of the safety of the castle. The lonely, abandoned dog she had done her best to take care of was her only confidant.

Sirius had come to learn many sad things about Ginny Weasley through their talks. He learned all about her first year. She had unknowingly been slipped an evil, enchanted diary by Lucius Malfoy that she had assumed was from her parents. After being ignored by her brothers and their friends and scorned by her roommates because of her secondhand things, she had confided in the supposed memory of Tom Riddle and it all spiraled from there. It all came to a head when he forced her into the Chamber in order to steal her life force for himself and lure Harry to his doom. Luckily Harry had defeated him and saved Ginny in the process. The story was long and heartbreaking and he learned a lot about Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Dumbledore, and the kind of man his godson was growing to be.

He had also learned that all was not well with her, even months later. She had made one close friend her first year, a muggleborn named Colin, but the guilt she felt for having been responsible for his petrification made it impossible for her to confide in him. She felt disconnected from her family. Her brothers made an effort to look after her and check in, but she didn't feel like one of them. They were better defined as her keepers than family or even friends. She was able to cast magic well but struggled to remember the theory of it all that she had learned the previous year. She told him about the things she could hear Tom whispering to her during her run-in with the dementors and the subsequent way her nightmares had increased with a vengeance.

That was probably the most important thing, because it had resulted in a decline in her physical health. Even before she started telling him about her life, he could _see_ that. In his dog form, Sirius was able to see through the glamours she had cast. The worst thing about it was that he knew she hadn't cast them out of vanity. With the glamours, she looked just this side of normal, perhaps a little thin and pale, but beneath them, he could see the deep bags under her eyes, lackluster hair and sunken cheeks that suggested she hadn't been eating or sleeping right for some time.

Sirius did what he could for her to help. She'd been through so much and shown the random stray that was him so much kindness that he wanted to provide her with something in return. He knew what loneliness and guilt felt like, and a little girl like her had no business feeling as terrible as he did. Aware that she liked to run her fingers through his thick fur and snuggle into his side for warmth while venting to him about these things, Sirius always snuggled into her side when she joined him. It seemed to provide her comfort and feeling like he was helping, even in a small way, filled Sirius with a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't felt in many years. Sometimes she fell asleep like this, and he would stay still and alert, ready to fight off anything that should threaten her. When she tensed as if she was experiencing something unpleasant in her mind, he would nuzzle her his snout until she calmed. He even did his best to get her to eat with him, though she usually just laughed at his antics and asked if he really expected her to eat something that he had touched with his dirty paws or wet nose.

Slowly she got better and he learned more about the lighter aspects of her life. She confided that she was actually quite skilled at Quidditch after years of night flying on stolen brooms, but that none of her family knew a thing about it. She told him about helping Fred and George prank her eldest brother Percy. She laughed about Hermione's cat Crookshanks going after her brother Ron's rat, Scabbers, and how she hoped Crookshanks got him soon, because she felt there was something unnatural about the creepy little thing. Sirius couldn't help but feel gratified by that, though he hoped Crookshanks didn't get Pettigrew and dispose of him before got a shot at him himself.

She also told him about her "embarrassing" crush on Harry, how ridiculous she had been the previous year, and how she tended to stay out of his way these days because she knew her crush had made him uncomfortable. She told him about Harry's broom being destroyed and the card she had made him. Through red cheeks, she had told him how her fried nerves had caused the spell to go awry and how the singing card ended up shrieking more than singing. She had a self-satisfied smile on her face as she explained she had given the card to Harry anyway, simply to prove wrong the voice of Tom Riddle in her head.

He even learned what she thought of him, Sirius Black. He was surprised to find out how much she knew about the situation and just how perceptive she was. He had been shocked but thrilled when he heard her ranting about how the established story she had overheard from various sources made no sense.

Her hands gesticulating wildly, she exclaimed, "I don't care how mad they say he is! No one who possesses the mental faculties to escape Azkaban, make it to Scotland, and break into the castle could possibly be unaware that they were breaking into the Tower during the Halloween Feast! It's not possible that he didn't know exactly what he was doing. Those are the actions of someone who wants to get in and out with as little fuss as possible. It's why Tom had me release the basilisk for the first time during the feast last year." She sunk into herself a bit then, lost in her memories, until Sirius let out a little whine that drew her attention back to that moment. She shook her head, forced a smile, and started spouting off increasingly ridiculous motives he could have had for breaking into the tower that night. It wasn't the last she spoke of him, but it was enough to know that some doubted his guilt.

And so their time had passed. The good, the bad, and the ugly all laid bare by Ginny to her silent but supportive companion until Sirius was certain he had learned more about her than anyone else in her life ever had. The most important of which was that she was an insightful, loyal, and compassionate witch, who had to deal with terrible things far beyond her years but had come out all the stronger and better for it. Despite her youth, he couldn't help but be impressed by her until he had nothing but admiration and respect for the young girl.

He really shouldn't have been surprised to find that she was stronger than he originally thought. The first time they had come face-to-face in Grimmauld Place-

His reverie was broken by the clearing of Molly's throat. When he looked up, he found that she had already finished the rather long letter her daughter had sent her. Now she was staring at him expectantly, eyes bouncing back and forth between the unopened letter in his hand and his face. Her brown eyes were so like Ginny's that he found his confidence renewed. He needed to remember that his plan wasn't just about Harry. It was also about protecting Ginny, the little girl who had become his friend and the daughter he never had. He needed to do whatever he could to protect them all, her family included, even if her mother hated him. He could do this. He _had _to do this.

He shook his head and straightened his shoulders, placing Ginny's letter on the table off to the side. "Sorry, Molly. I'll read that later- it's probably just a bit about the welcoming feast last night and the new DADA professor. Right now, I was hoping to talk to you and Arthur about something important."

Husband and wife shared an apprehensive look before turning their attention back to him. Arthur's jaw slightly tenser than before, he asked, "What exactly is it you would like to discuss, Sirius?"

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, he thought it would be best to start with the basic facts and provide the _why_ of the issue before presenting the idea. "It's about contingency plans, should the worst happen. We all know how corrupt the Ministry can get, and already is, even before Voldemort returned." He ignored Molly's flinch at the name and continued, "Given the rubbish _The Prophet _is printing and what happened with Harry's trial earlier this month, I think it's clear that he's at risk from the Ministry in addition to Voldemort."

"Surely it can't be quite that bad," Molly said without conviction.

Arthur gently took his wife's hand as he shook his head sadly. "It's true. The greater of the Ministry, under Fudge's direction, are viewing him as a potential threat. Even those who don't actually believe that are going along with it, lest they put their own jobs at risk."

"That sounds about right. Even when it's questionable, the Ministry workers tend to fall in line with what their superiors expect of them, so long as it conforms to the law." Sirius grimaced. "Look at what happened- what's still happening- to me. I'm an innocent man who was never even given a trial, but chances to prove that innocence are slim given that there's an order for me to receive the dementor's kiss on sight. And all that happened during the time when Voldemort was supposedly gone."

He shook himself, trying to physically push the thoughts of his years in Azkaban away from where they were clawing at his mind. "Things are going to get worse- we all know that. For now, Harry has the both of you to look out for him in the greater wizarding public, something I, and I'm sure Lily and James as well, will be forever grateful for. And he has me if all hell breaks loose and he needs to go into hiding." Seeing the scowl that crossed Molly's face, Sirius looked directly at her as he continued. "That is not an ideal or desired situation for any of us Molly, but it's the truth."

She assessed him for a moment, before some of the tension faded from her expression. "Okay. As long as we all agree that is a worst-case scenario."

Arthur shot his wife a slightly disapproving glance, before looking back at Sirius with a serious, direct look. "While your ancestral home is not ideal, I would like to say that we greatly appreciate your hospitality in allowing our family to stay here this summer. While Bill is certainly capable of warding the Burrow, with Pettigrew knowing the property so well, we were genuinely concerned about having to return there. Nothing is more important than the safety of our family, and we are very grateful that you offered us a safe place to stay until we could be certain all potential flaws in the security of our home could be taken care of." It was all very formal coming from the normally genial man, but Sirius understood that the man felt it was necessary in order to truly convey his gratitude.

Sirius nodded gravely and said with feeling, "Of course, Arthur. You're, all of you, are Harry's family, and good people besides. I was concerned for your safety as well, and I'm happy to be of some help. Merlin knows my status as a fugitive hasn't allowed me to be of much use to anyone." He shook his head ruefully, before shrugging. "At least it was something, offering this place up. Since then, I've just been running through everything in my head, trying to think ahead and make sure we're prepared for any eventuality.

"Unfortunately, what I'm concerned about it is actually worse than anyone having to hide with me. What I'm really concerned about is what would happen if any of us were to die. Without me, he'd have no back up if the Ministry were to come after him. Without you, particularly Arthur, he wouldn't have a safe place in the legitimate Wizarding world outside of Hogwarts, and other less reputable Wizards would likely try to gain custody of him. He'd be very vulnerable, especially if the Ministry should fall."

Molly's eyes widened and her hand shot to her mouth in horror. "They wouldn't be able to do that, would they? No one has made any attempt in the past and certainly we would be able to…" She trailed off at the look on her husband's face. "Arthur?"

Arthur had continued to regard Sirius solemnly. While his wife embraced the denial as much as possible, he never had. They had both lost countless friends and family in the last war, so there was no denying that it was likely they would again. What Molly didn't know that Arthur did, however, was how perilously close the Ministry had come to falling during the first war and what the repercussions would have been if it had. As it was, Voldemort fell to the Potter's before it could be brought to the Wizengamot and it was suddenly forgotten- his defeat meant the Death Eaters and sympathizers were busy pleading the Imperius curse or otherwise distancing themselves from anything questionable or Dark. When the two men connected eyes, each saw the weight of knowledge in the other's eyes.

Turning to his wife, Arthur said, "If the wrong people were to gain power, then they could."

Sirius grimaced, "As much as it pains me to say this, Arthur, as long as you're alive and well, everything should be fine. You may not have much money, but you're a long-standing figure of the Ministry with an old pure-blood name. Unfortunately, that matters right now."

Sirius floundered for a minute unsure what to say next.

"There's more." Arthur cut in, eyeing him speculatively. His complexion had paled slightly, and Sirius knew he was getting closer to grasping what Sirius had so far left unsaid. "You're not just speaking to us because we're Harry's other set of "unofficial guardians" as you put it, are you? It's not just Harry you've been thinking about, is it?"

"No, it's not. I'm also concerned about what would happen to Ron and Ginny, but it's Ginny I've been particularly worried about."

Arthur inhaled sharply and the rest of his coloring fled his face. Molly, who had until then been following the conversation quietly with a look of trepidation on her face, startled and asked, "Arthur, what is it? What do you two know that I don't? What about Ron and Ginny?"

"If the Ministry falls, it's likely they'll pass a piece of legislation that would allow the wealthy pure-blood families to essential buy the custody of 'underage wizards and witches lacking proper guardians'. It had already been drafted before Voldemort fell, and I have no doubt that the 'wrong sort' have kept it at the ready and could enact it very quickly." He released a heavy breath before looking at his wife sadly, "What Sirius is saying, is that if something were to happen to me, as the sole provider of our family, it is likely that Ron and Ginny would be taken under this law, because they would claim you would lack the ability to provide for them financially. More than likely, they would end up at the mercy of Death Eaters, and Ginny…"

Seeing Arthur couldn't bring himself to say it, he did it for him. Holding nothing back, he said, "Ginny is a pure-blood witch, the seventh child, and only female of the lot. She'd be highly coveted for breeding already." Arthur winced at the brash but accurate statement, and Molly looked physically ill as she gripped her husband's hand tightly, but Sirius continued. "Unfortunately, she is also a well-known supporter of Harry Potter and has a history with Voldemort himself and that paints an even larger target on her back."

There was silence for a moment, as they all absorbed the weight of it, as if saying it aloud had made the possibility all the more real.

After a moment, Sirius continued, "I've thought about this a lot, I'll admit. Ginny is… you have a wonderful daughter and I care about her very much. I've even considered what would happen should you all cut ties with Harry publicly," the couple's eyes widened, "but it wouldn't matter. Even if it hasn't come up yet, I have no doubt that Voldemort will find out about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Not only will he see her as someone who escaped him personally, something I am certain he will not be willing to accept, but he will also see her as someone Harry cares about and will go to great lengths to save."

Finally, the glassiness that had been gathering in Molly's eyes spilled over and tears slipped down her cheeks. Knuckles white from how tightly she was squeezing her husband's hand and eyes downcast, she whispered fearfully, "Not my little girl. Arthur, how do we protect her?"

Arthur wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her close to his chest. "For now, we're doing what we can. She's back at Hogwarts, which is about as safe as she can get at the moment, aside from under the Fidelius here. We're here for the time being, so she's safe during the holidays. We'll just be extra careful about traveling, particularly back and forth from Hogwarts. I'm sure the Order will be there for Harry anyway and you know our kids are never too far from him anyway. It'll be fine, Mollywobbles," he soothed.

She sniffled and looked up at him with red eyes. "And if something happens to you?"

Arthur took a steadying breath and met her gaze. "We'll just have to hope for the best." He turned to Sirius then. "I assume this was not the actual point of the conversation. What is it you really wanted to discuss?"

Sirius did his best to keep his expression even and laid out the benefits of his plan first, because he knew if he started with his actual plan, then he would never be allowed to finish. "Since it is Ginny and Harry that are most at risk, I've focused more on what we can do to protect them. What I've found will give them their magical majority if either Arthur or myself should die. In essence, the magical protection would be enacted upon either of our deaths and they will no longer be considered underage. That means they would be entitled to any inheritances at Gringotts, no longer be bound by the restriction for underage sorcery, no longer be subjected to the Trace, would be eligible to claim Head of house and any subsequent seats on the Wizengamot… essentially, they would be free from any restrictions."

Arthur regarded him for a moment, and Sirius could tell he was waiting for the catch, but before he could ask, Molly spoke up. "I understand that those benefits will give them the ability to defend themselves a bit more freely and prevent any unsavory characters from gaining custody of Ginny, but isn't there anything else we can do to protect her from Vol- You-know-who?"

"The protection would make it difficult for anyone with, ah, indecent intentions from laying a hand on her." Sirius put in somewhat optimistically before shaking his head. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure what more can be done to protect her from being on Voldemort's radar. At least this way she'd be able to train in defending herself. She'd also have the ability to cast detection spells, disillusion herself, and apparate away if she were ever in danger without fearing retaliation from the Ministry."

Molly nodded to herself, seemingly lost in thought, weighing the information. Sirius shifted nervously, aware that she likely wouldn't be so complacent shortly. He caught Arthur's apprehensive gaze and knew the man understood that there were sincere drawbacks to the plan.

When he didn't immediately continue, Arthur sighed and said resignedly, "Go on, Sirius. Tell us the rest. How is this going to be accomplished?"

Sirius hesitated for a moment, unsure, before pulling a black, nondescript book from the pocket of his robes. He looked down at it, flipping the pages back and forth nervously before looking back up at the couple before him. "Look, I just want to be clear that I went this route because we need something that cannot be undone or challenged by the Ministry. This isn't like the contracts the Goblins draw up that need Ministry approval or that can be dissolved. The kids need the element of surprise, something that will not be noticed until it's too late to stop."

With that said, he opened the book to the correct page and set it before the Weasley parents and waited for the inevitable explosion. He didn't have to wait long.

"Magically-binding betrothal?!" Molly shouted in outrage. "Are you- _Absolutely not_. I will not sell my daughter into a contract like- like-" she sputtered.

"Molly," Arthur's quiet, but steady interjection stopped her tirade. She turned incredulous eyes toward him. Sirius saw that his eyebrows were furrowed as he read further than just the title and his expression was one of distaste, but he looked at his wife steadily as he said, "No one is talking about selling Ginny, dear. While I agree with you that the premise is appalling, I know Sirius cares about both of the children and I would like to know more about his reasoning before we discuss this.

"I don't think it requires explaining why we're opposed to the idea, on general principle alone, but what you're suggesting is blood magic, bordering on Dark. I'm not sure it's even legal. However, I can see that you yourself have reservations about it, so I'm curious as to why you'd even mention it."

Sirius nodded before he explained, "It is rather Dark, certainly more so than anything I would be willing to use under normal circumstances, but it is in fact legal. It's old and rare, enough so that the only mention of it I was able to find is in the old Black family journals. As such, it's not specifically listed in any legislation and does not meet the criteria of any of the more ambiguous categories that are regulated or otherwise banned by the Ministry. At the same time, it would be completely irreversible and binding once the conditions were met, meaning no one would be able to remove the rights or protections that the ritual would grant Harry and Ginny once they had been magically bound."

"Alright," Arthur said slowly, throwing a look at his wife to see if she had anything to add. Molly scowled but seemed to be listening closely to everything Sirius said. "Why is it that this isn't used all the time? The upper society's pure-blood families create more traditional betrothal contracts all the time. Why wouldn't they use something like this to cheat the system?"

Sirius was glad for the subject, because this answer was straightforward and easy to give. It also distracted him from the heat of Molly's accusatory gaze. "This ritual is designed specifically to preserve the power of influential families during troubled times, by ensuring underage heirs could take up the representation of the family ahead of schedule and ensure that alliances made could not be reneged upon when they died."

"Even though most Dark wizarding families haven't had to worry about those conditions, with their family name and wealth being at risk, I'm surprised to have never heard of something like this," Arthur responded in confusion.

Sirius sighed, "As you said, it's blood magic, so it is tied into the very magic of all parties involved. It's completely binding. If any party were to try to dissolve it, the magic of both binders and both subjects, along with everyone else in their line, could potentially be lost. The kind of people who are willing to practice this type of magic and have passed down these secrets, people like the Black family, don't trust anyone enough to risk it. All it would take is for one wayward child to decide they would rather be a squib than be bound to the other, and suddenly both families would lose all their magic."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Not surprising that such a shifty crowd would be unwilling to trust one another with the fate of their magical line. So you're saying that this would be completely irreversible, even for us?"

Sirius nodded gravely.

"What if the conditions are never satisfied? What if they both turn seventeen and neither of us has passed?" Arthur asked in concentration.

Molly's head whipped towards him and glared at him. Angrily she bit out, "Arthur! You cannot be seriously considering this!"

"I'm just curious, Molly. If everything goes down the tube, Ginny will be lucky to survive Voldemort's wrath. Even if she does, she could just as be turned over to Death Eaters and sold in a betrothal contract anyway. If she were to not have a choice in the matter, I'd much prefer she be with Harry. We know he'll protect her at least." He lowered his voice sadly, "Honestly Mol, as much as it pains me to think it, her survival is more important to me than anything, even if it may mean sacrificing her choice."

Slightly tempered, Molly nodded her head. "I suppose that's true," she said softly. "It just doesn't seem right, neither of them getting a choice."

"I know," he agreed sagely. He turned back to Sirius and asked, "If we all survive that long, what happens? Does it dissolve? Since they would not have been bound, would they be absolved of the obligation and free to choose anyone they'd like? Or does the magic linger and bind them as soon as one of us passes?"

Sirius fidgeted before admitting, "I honestly have no idea. All the written accounts stem from a time where arranged marriages were the norm. No one questioned the agreements and they followed through with the marriages regardless of who lived or who died. There was one instance in which the witch and wizard involved did not want to be bound and all parties involved survived until the subjects reached adulthood. Unfortunately for us, the wizard died at the age of nineteen, before either of the fathers or the witch. I have no idea if they would have been bound upon the death of either of their fathers." He paused thoughtfully for a moment, before he speculated, "I would imagine he or she would have been able to marry someone else, though I doubt they would have risked attempting to bond to another, in case that triggered some of the repercussions. There is no way to know, however," he finished glumly.

"Right," Arthur said. He appeared torn as he processed everything. Eventually, he said, "As much as I understand the desire, as sorely as I am tempted to agree with you that this is the best way to protect them, I can't in good conscience agree knowing that if we are all somehow lucky enough to survive this war, that they may be magically bound involuntarily at some point later in their lives and suffer for it without it having done them any good at all."

"I agree," Molly piped up. "As much as I want to protect Ginny, I can't help feeling we'd be doing a great disservice to Harry. If we were talking about this in regards to Harry and Ginny wasn't a factor at all, I would never support this decision."

"I understand," Sirius said, shoulders slumped in disappointment. Truthfully, he really, really did understand. He held all those reservations as well, but after all his fruitless searching he had become desperate. Furthermore, he knew what being on the wrong side of the Ministry was like, and he never wanted Harry to be in the position. Worse yet, he'd seen what the memory of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle had done to Ginny and just the thought of what a fully powered, vengeful Voldemort could do to her made him feel ill. Resigned, he stood and addressed them one last time before leaving the kitchen.

"Thank you for hearing me out," Sirius said sincerely to the forlorn-looking couple as he stood to leave the kitchen. He gestured to the book sitting in front of them, open to the page containing the ritual. "You can keep that and read a little bit more about it if you'd like. I already have it copied. I'm going to head to the library and keep looking for something that can help them."

September 2nd was not the last that they spoke of the matter. Occasionally over the next few months, the three could be found talking in hushed whispers, always out of range of prying ears, about possible alternatives, but one by one, each plan was deemed insufficient. The blood rite tucked away in that little black book weighed heavily on all their minds.

Exactly 107 days later, Sirius had yet to make any significant progress on his search for ways to give his godson and the daughter of his heart the freedom they would need to move about the Wizarding world autonomously should the worst happen, but he was still trying. In fact, he was actively searching again that night, knowing that the children were coming home for Christmas the next day and that his time would be limited over the holiday. It was extremely late and he was going through some questionable rare books he had paid Dung to track down for him when news of Harry's vision and Arthur's attack came to Grimmauld Place by way of Phineas Black's portrait.

Less than twenty-four hours later, after a terrifyingly long night, his search ended when Molly approached him and handed him two vials of blood, one bearing Ginny's name, dated the day of her birth, and one Arthur's, dated that day. She wrung her hands for a moment, looking as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only offered a weak nod before walking away. Looking at the blood, Sirius grimaced and started reviewing his notes on the ritual. He still didn't like it either, but 176 days of searching had proven to him that this was the best he could do.

By midnight, Sirius was tucking away a vial filled with three layers of blood, the middle of which was shimmering and appeared to be creating some kind of barrier between the other two, into a specially designed box that would only open for himself or for the one other who had a key. For the next six months, almost to the day, the vial sat unremarkable and undisturbed.

Unexpectedly, 358 days after he first started his search, Sirius Black fell through the Veil in the Death Chamber, deep in the Department of Mysteries, and the magical barrier that had been preventing the blood and magic of Harry and Ginny dissolved, magically binding the pair.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has been enthusiastic about this story! Also to ginnyweasley777 for providing continuous feedback on developing stories like this one. Enthusiasm matters. **

It was with even more reluctance than usual that Harry Potter disembarked the Hogwarts Express at the end of his fifth year. While returning to his relatives for a time each summer always had been unpleasant until he could escape and find refuge elsewhere, it was worse this year with the events of the spring and the loss of his godfather still hanging over him like a dark cloud. The numbness that had settled over him in the retreat of his anger was somewhat of a relief, but he knew the protection is offered him was tenuous at best; that cloud remained, threatening to give way to a torrent of grief so heavy that he worried he may drown in it. The sense of dread only continued to build as he made his way toward the magical barrier that would send him back to the Muggle world. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when he finally stepped through and saw who was waiting on the other side.

The Granger and Weasley parents were both there, waiting anxiously to greet their children as usual, but they were joined this year by Fred and George, as well as Mad-Eye, Remus, and Tonks. Each stood out in their own way: the twins wearing what appeared to be drangon-hide jackets, Moody's scarred face and magical eye, Remus looking far more worn down than any man his age should, and Tonks with her pink hair and Weird Sisters shirt. Each of the two aurors present kept their eyes continuously sweeping across their surroundings, looking for any possible threats, but seemed mostly at ease as they waited for the youngsters to arrive.

It was Lupin who first noticed their arrival and offered Harry a small smile. He didn't have much time for anything else however, before Mrs. Weasley swept forward and grabbed her children in a quick, but apparently suffocating, hug before releasing them and applying the same treatment to Harry. Harry hugged her back briefly, but was distracted by thoughts of why this group appeared to be waiting for him.

Mrs. Weasley thankfully released him before he could suffocated and moved to greet Hermione and her parents, while Mr. Weasley took his turn with his children. Lupin took this moment to approach him. His voice betrayed his exhaustion, but his tone was warm as he said, "Hello Harry."

"Hi," Harry said nervously. He was doing his best to ignore it, because he really didn't want to think about it right now, but a small part of him was whispering to him, wondering how Moony could even look at him knowing it was Harry's fault -. Shutting down that line of thinking, he quickly blurted, "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he began, his eyes taking on a slight hint of mischief, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."

Harry appreciated the sentiment, but internally cringed. That wouldn't go over well, and he alone would have to pay the price for it. As evenly as possible, he quickly said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Moody, his voice sounding like a growl, interjected, "Oh, I think-".

He was cut off by Mr. Weasley however. "Actually, that will no longer be necessary." Harry was surprised to see him looking sheepish when Moody's magical eye swung from the direction the Dursleys were standing to Mr. Weasley instead.

Moody, eyebrow raised, asked suspiciously, "Oh? Then what _is_ necessary, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley turned to Harry. "If it's agreeable to you, Harry, I'd like for you to leave with us today. There are some things we need to discuss that may take some time."

Harry didn't even need to think about it and nodded vigorously.

Giving him a small smile and a nod, Mr. Weasley turned back to Moody. "I'll inform his relatives, and after that, we'll be needing an escort. It's best this discussion take place in private."

Moody grunted a response and went back to scanning the crowd. Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder in assurance. Leaning down, he softly said, "You stay here. I'll take care of it."

"What's going on, mate?" Ron spoke up from beside him.

He simply shrugged, quite uncertain himself, and tried to get a grasp on the situation using the scant clues he had. Harry looked away from the scene of Mr. Weasley telling an irate Uncle Vernon that they needn't have made the trip to King's Cross today, while Dudley tried to disappear behind his mother, and found that most of his own party was now aware that something out of the ordinary was occurring. Both Tonks and Lupin looked surprised, but Lupin also appeared conflicted; this clearly had not been part of an approved Order plan. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked on with interest and concern. Fred and George seemed completely unaffected, but given their nature, they were rather adept at accepting abrupt changes in plans. Overall, Harry got the impression that whatever was happening, it appeared Mr. Weasley, and perhaps Mrs. Weasley, had kept it secret.

He turned to find Mrs. Weasley, wondering if he could garner any information from her. She was behind him, apparently finishing her conversation with the Grangers. Hermione's parents looked confused, but nodded before following Mrs. Weasley to rejoin their motley group. They pulled their daughter aside, and appeared to be saying goodbye to her. Even more confused than before, Harry turned his attention back to his relatives conversation with Mr. Weasley, only to find his relatives had left while he was distracted and Mr. Weasley had returned to the group.

"Right." Mr. Weasley said, with a clap of his hands as he surveyed the group. He turned to those who had been waiting on the platform with him for the students' arrival. "I allowed you all to join me today under false pretenses. While no one need warn off Harry's relatives, we do, as I told Alastor, need an escort. We'll be walking to… a secure location here in London." He gave all the adults a significant look. Harry's stomach dropped as he realized where Mr. Weasley intended to take them.

"If you're worried about safety, why not share your plans? We could have-" Lupin questioned, before Mad-Eye cut him off.

"Constant vigilance," grunted the scarred auror. "None here could give away the secret if we didn't know it existed. Smart." It seemed to Harry that he added that last bit begrudgingly.

"But we could have portkeyed," Lupin continued. "Dumbledore wou-"

"Aye, Dumbledore." Moody said plainly, as if the man's name was an answer in and of itself. Harry latched onto that train of thought, desperate to avoid thoughts of _where _they were going. _Why _was a mystery that was certainly easier to focus on. Unfortunately, he barely had to wonder why they didn't want Dumbledore involved; they weren't taking him to his relatives, which was something he knew Dumbledore would oppose wholeheartedly for safety reasons.

It looked like Lupin was ready to speak again, but Tonks placed a hand on his arm. Mr. Weasley spoke up at the same time, "Now isn't the time for such discussion." He looked around and saw Hermione had finished with her parents. He waved his wand and muttered something quiet that Harry couldn't hear when she had rejoined the group proper. Harry saw Moody do the same and nod in confirmation. "Perfect. Now that we're all ready, let's get a move on."

Mr. Weasley led them to a shadowy corner and the adults formed a sort of wall shielding Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny from view.

"Right. I think it's best we do this is pairs. Harry, do you have your cloak?"

Harry nodded, "In my trunk."

"Get it out, Potter. Who will be going with him?" Moody asked, directing the question at Mr. Weasley. Harry obeyed, grateful that he always kept it within reach and didn't have to dig through his trunk.

Ron spoke up. "I'll-"

Mrs. Weasley cut him off almost immediately, glancing over her shoulder and sharing a look with her husband that Harry couldn't interpret. "No. Ginny will go with Harry."

"Ginny?!" Ron sputtered. "But I'm-"

"Ron," Mr. Weasley cut back in, "Ginny is the smallest of you all. She and Harry will be less likely to be exposed than if Harry were with you or Hermione. Alastor, can you disillusion them to provide some cover?"

It was only minutes later that their large group- organized into an odd configuration that surrounded and protected the disillusioned and invisible students- began their journey. As the distance between their company and Grimmauld Place shrunk, Harry felt his dread increase until he was certain it had contaminated every fiber of his being. It was so encompassing that he wondered briefly if perhaps he had the wrong idea avoiding his relatives; maybe going with them would have been the better option. If he wasn't aware that his uncle would likely be in a towering rage after wasting his entire morning waiting for Harry unnecessarily, he just may have even asked if he could return to Privet Drive instead of facing the cold, depressing home of the Blacks. Harry had no doubt that as bad as it had always been, it would now be worse, filled with the awareness that it was empty of Sirius's presence. The dread continued to spread with each pump of his heart, filling him with a cold that made him want to shiver.

As a result, when they unexpectedly stopped on the steps of the Black family home to allow Moody to practice "constant vigilance", Harry assumed it was him who was responsible when he felt shaking as he stumbled into Ginny. It was only a moment later when a disillusioned someone- either Ron or Hermione- stumbled into him that he realized the trembling was only present against his front, indicating it was Ginny, not himself, at the source of the movement. He hadn't seen her be anything but composed since returning from the Ministry, but she suddenly appeared to be as distraught as him by their return to Grimmauld Place. Somehow it settled Harry to know that he was not the only one.

The slight decrease in his anxiety was enough to bring him back to some awareness of himself. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine somewhere else, somewhere comforting. It was the Burrow that formed in his mind's eye- the quirky, magical home that so often was his refuge away from Hogwarts. As he concentrated on the comfort that image brought, he fancied he could smell it and inhaled deeply through his nose. The flowery scent that greeted him settled him, before he realized it was too concentrated to have been his imagination and his eyes popped open. His nose was only centimeters above Ginny's head. Before he could even process it, she was moving forward out from under the cloak and into the house. Harry followed her and the scent of comfort through the door without thought.

He was unprepared when she stopped dead mid-step in front of him. His momentum tipped them both, his seeking skills the only thing that allowed him to catch her by both arms and right them before they toppled forward completely. To his surprise, Ginny stayed stiff the whole time, not responding at all to the almost fall. Her trembling had yet to calm down. If Harry had to guess, he would have said it had increased.

A croak from in front of her had Harry immediately tensing in understand.

"Oh, poor Kreacher." The ancient elf bemoaned, "His true Mistress will be so disappointed. Kreacher doesn't want to, but he must. He doesn't have a choice, he must listen to the filthy, Mudblood loving, blood traitor M-"

Harry only heard the opening words of Kreacher's speech. Being in Grimmauld Place, seeing Kreacher, hearing his traitorous voice, everything, just brought the memories to the forefront of Harry's mind. He could hear Kreacher cackling as he fed Harry the wrong information about Sirius's whereabouts, information that would endanger all his friends and lead to the death of Sirius himself. Harry wanted to be angry with the foul little creature, but he couldn't muster it. It was suddenly too much. The dread, the guilt, the prison that was this house, the anger… Harry screwed his eyes shut and pushed it all away, searching for that numbness from earlier. He hadn't realized he was still gripping Ginny's arms from catching her, and rather tightly too it seemed, until she yanked them free and stepped toward the elf.

"SHUT UP!" Ginny hissed vehemently. Her movement and words pulled him back to the present. Harry took in her hard expression and the way her hands shook, this time with rage. She maintained a low volume, but her tone was cutting as she said, "He may not have been nice to you, but Sirius was your master. You _betrayed _him. If there is anyone beside Tom and Bellatrix to blame for that, it's _you._ So just _do not speak_ and go sit in your den where you can't do any more damage to anyone else."

She brushed past the surprisingly silent Kreacher and toward the kitchen so quickly that she wasn't present to see the elf disappear with a pop. No one seemed to know what to make of it, so they all followed her lead. When they reached the door however, Mr. Weasley stopped the group.

"This is a bit delicate. I believe, for the moment, we should limit who is present. Harry obviously needs to stay. Perhaps the rest of you could keep an eye on things. Prevent any stray Order members from coming through." Harry noticed that Moody nodded in approval, unperturbed that the eldest Weasley was keeping more secrets. The twins looked intrigued, but didn't argue. _Probably planning to use the extendable ears,_ Harry thought. Lupin looked like he may argue, but Tonks pulled him down the hall. Ron and Hermione stayed steadfast at his side.

There was a pause as Ron's parents eyed the two of them.

"Come on, Dad. We've been through this. There's nothing you're going to tell Harry that he won't tell us anyway," Ron pushed.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look. His face was equal parts exasperated and resigned; hers seemed to show the same resignation, but also with a hint of apprehension. His father nodded and led them into the kitchen, where Ginny was already seated to the right of the head seat. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both sat at the head of the table, while Harry and Ron sat to their left. Hermione balanced out their arrangement by taking the seat beside Ginny across from Ron.

For a moment, Harry wondered, and Ron too judging from the look on his face, if the Weasley parents were going to kick Ginny out of the kitchen, the way they had last summer when Harry had demanded to know what was going on. The moment didn't come, however. Instead, it there was only an awkward moment of silence in which Mr. Weasley stared at the table and gripped his wife's hand. It was Ginny who broke it, by asking, "Dad, what are we doing here? Why is it just us?"

"We're here because Sirius made arrangements in the event of his death that need to be discussed," Arthur said somewhat nervously, lacking his usual joviality. At the mention of his godfather, Harry dropped his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stay present and not fall into the pit of despair that he was on the precipice of, that he had just barely managed to push away from after the incident with Kreacher. "Sirius had been worried about what would happen in the event that things took a turn for the worst, especially if he were no longer around to help us all at the time. To that end, he made some contingency plans."

Mr. Weasley took a breath and looked down at his hands before addressing him directly, "Harry, obviously, he was most concerned about you." He looked between his two children, "But he was also concerned about the rest of us as well. His plans reflect that." He looked back to Harry, a slightly pleading look on his face that left Harry confused, before continuing, "Please know, son, that while extreme, and not ideal, this decision was made with only your safety and best interest in mind," the man rambled a bit.

Harry wasn't really sure what to make of that, so, while feeling some trepidation, he stated, "I'm not really following, Mr. Weasley. What exactly did he do?"

"Well… as of his death," Harry and Arthur both cringed at the statement, "you have reached magical majority and essentially become emancipated. The Trace has been removed and the Goblins will recognize you as an adult, allowing you full access of any funds you are entitled to through them. You will also no longer have to stay at Privet Drive, as the blood wards are designed for underage wizards only."

Harry felt his first true smile since the battle at the Department of Mysteries spread across his face. No more Dursleys? No risk of being charged with underage magic? He could actually defend himself now. He didn't have to put up with anyone's abuse, neglect, or attacks. If he recalled correctly, he even had enough money in his vault to support himself if he was careful about it.

"Really?" He couldn't help asking excitedly, because honestly, nothing so brilliant had ever happened to him before.

"Yes," Arthur replied, smiling at him. For a moment, Harry felt himself soaring, but then he noticed the tremulous quality of the smile and felt his guard rising in response. That was all incredible news to Harry, so what could possibly be making the older man look so uncertain.

Mr. Weasley must have noticed the change in his expression, because he dropped the smile and cleared his throat before starting nervously, "That's not the only thing though. You see, there's- in order to achieve that… it was necessary to-"

Harry heard a sudden "oh" from across the table. By the time he looked away from Mr. Weasley to the source, he found Ginny wide-eyed and looking at him, before she looked back at her father.

"He didn't," she said in a horrified tone. Mr. Weasley was just looking back at her blankly as far as Harry could tell, but Ginny must have seen something in her father's expression that he didn't because her eyes widened further.

"How did you…" her mother started to ask, startled.

Ginny suddenly looked angry, "I told him. I _told _him it was wrong. That he deserved to be loved. That he deserved a _choice_ for once! How could he take that away from him? He deserves to be loved by-" Harry had an impossible time trying to follow her statements. Harry assumed he himself was one of the "he"s she was mentioned and that Sirius was the other. B_ut what choice was she talking about? What did love have to do with it? She couldn't possibly know anything about the prophecy, could she? Could Sirius have? He would have told him if he had, wouldn't he have?_ While these thoughts swirled, Ginny continued her diatribe, until cutting off after saying, "I know there are all sorts of protections, but-"

The sudden lack of her forceful voice and the audible, sharp intake of breath she made drew his attention.

"The protections," she whispered quietly, almost to herself. His concern spiked immediately when he saw her eyes flick from person to person around the table until her face had paled to an even white and she was staring at her father with huge, glassy eyes. "All of us, here… on the train… not… I thought it was accidental magic," she whispered frantically, looking terrified and suddenly vulnerable. "Dad," she choked out and swallowed thickly, "Dad. Please, please tell me you didn't. Tell me it was just accidental magic, not… not…"

Harry quickly glanced at Mr. Weasley on his left, where he found a look of confusion before he saw comprehension dawn. The man's eyes hardened and his fists clenched where they lay upon the table. "What caused it?" he asked sharply.

Harry was surprised by the tone, having never heard the man speak to his daughter that way, but Ginny hardly noticed, the wide-eyed, terrified look still on her face. "It was on the train, coming home," she relayed without any real emotion, "I was coming back from the loo when Malfoy and his cronies cornered me. Nott had grabbed me around the chest from behind, and suddenly he was blown back." Her voice remained even as she conveyed this, but her eyes never left her father's. It wasn't until she continued that her voice warbled, and she looked years younger and smaller as she asked, "Daddy, tell me it was just accidental magic… please?"

Her plaintive plea caused her father's face to crumble, and Harry could see the guilt in his shimmering eyes as he shook his head at his distraught daughter.

She looked down and her fingers threaded through her hair as she gripped the sides of her head, blocking her face from view. From this close, Harry could see the shine that highlighted the endless shades of red spread coloring the long strands even in the dimness of the dreary kitchen. For a moment, he was completely distracted by it. _How had he never noticed that before? _His fascination was cast aside quickly, however, when he saw her shoulders start to shake. His gut clenched at the sight. He still didn't know what was going on- what Ginny clearly knew that the rest of the children around the table didn't- but he hadn't seen Ginny so vulnerable since she had woken up in the Chamber of Secrets, and knowing whatever this was had shaken her so deeply made him panic slightly.

When she looked up, however, he was shocked to see that she wasn't crying. Her cheeks were red, her eyes hard and practically alight with fury. Looking closely, Harry could even see the air around her shimmer slightly, like heat waves over blacktop in the summer sun.

"ARE YOU ALL MENTAL? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" She suddenly shouted as she stood and glared at her parents. Harry dimly noticed that his jaw, along with those of every other person in the room, dropped at the way she was speaking to them.

"Ginny, the protections-" Arthur began weakly at the same time that Molly, her face red with anger as well, started, "Young Lady, don't you dare-"

"Don't," was all Ginny said in a quiet, but vicious voice. Her tone was cold and the word practically hung in the air, dripping with anger and disappointment, causing both her parents to quiet. "Just, just don't. There's nothing you can say. There's nothing you can _do_. I cannot believe you would do this to him. To me. I can't- excuse me." Suddenly her words seemed to dry up and she straightened her shoulders before leaving the kitchen without a backward glance.

The second Ginny was out of sight, Molly crumbled. Her shoulders hunched, she turned into her husband's chest and sobbed. Mr. Weasley wrapped an arm around her and rubbed circles on her back.

Unable to take it any longer, Ron finally blurted out what was on all their minds, "What the bleeding hell is going on?"

Mrs. Weasley was too beside herself to comment, but there was a thump beneath the table, where Hermione likely kicked Ron's shin, as she hissed at him, "Ronald!"

"Lay off, Hermione. I'm serious. I've seen Ginny lose it a fair few times, but she's never been like _that._ And they just let her!" He pointed an accusatory finger at his parents. "Clearly they did something and Ginny knows what it is. This isn't just about Harry. I want to know what."

Harry was only slightly surprised by Ron's outburst- following Ginny's complete eruption it would have been difficult for his friend to take him fully by surprise- given how well acquainted he was with Ron's temper. Mr. Weasley's quiet appraisal of his youngest son was more interesting. He didn't look nearly as stricken as his wife, who was clearly beside herself, as he faced both his son and Harry resolutely, despite the guilt that still lined his eyes.

"You're not wrong, Ron. Sirius approached us with a plan to protect both Harry and Ginny the morning after you all returned to school. Your mother and I, after many long discussions with Sirius, agreed that something needed to be done, but… we couldn't find anything exactly... "

Mrs. Weasley sniffled, but spoke. "You have to understand… things could easily become very bad, very quickly. There may not be time to implement alternative plans. The things the Death Eaters could do if they gain enough momentum in the Ministry… and your father…"

Mr. Weasley took back over, sensing his wife was only going to become increasingly incomprehensible. "There are things that you wouldn't know. Things that almost happened before You-Know-Who was defeated last time, that could happen again. And Harry and Ginny are more at risk than anyone. We needed a way to protect them. We were going to keep looking, but after what happened at Christmas... " He audibly gulped and Harry suspected he was remembering the terror of being attacked by Nagini, fearing he was alone guarding the Hall of Prophecy and would bleed out before anyone was the wiser. Harry shuddered himself remembering all that had happened that night. "Well, after that, we decided it was too risky to wait any longer. Your mother gave Sirius the okay before I had even left the hospital. She knew I wanted to do it, but she had her reservations until then."

Harry listened to their conversation patiently, but mostly in confusion, as they rambled. It was good. It kept him distracted. It prevented whatever reality that had been created when Sirius died from pressing on the barrier of numbness he had managed to maintain since he entered the kitchen. Ron however, was not so patient.

"Yes. You were scared and did something to protect Harry and Ginny. But_ what? _And why _Ginny? _And how is it that she knows whatever you did, but you _still haven't told us_."

"Ah." Mr. Weasley shot a guilty look at his wife, who looked at him with something akin to betrayal. "I may have gotten the impression from Sirius that she caught him researching it and was less than thrilled with the idea."

"Arthur! How could you not tell me this?" Mrs. Weasley sat up and pulled away from her husband, glaring at him accusingly.

The man sighed. "She was opposed on principle. She didn't know he was going to approach us, and if I'm being honest, I care far more for her safety than anything." He took his wife's hands and leaned closer to her. "Molly, we agreed. You've seen all the notes, heard what could happen… we agreed that this was more important. It could be so much worse. Sometimes, there's no good option."

Tears gathered in Mrs. Weasley's eyes and fell down her cheeks as she nodded and leaned back into him, whispering her agreement. Harry looked away, unable to watch the tenderness, never having seen much of it growing up and, aware that he had to face Voldemort as either killer or corpse, knowing that he may never have the chance to experience it either. He didn't even remember parental love, the force that drove his parents to sacrifice themselves the way they had; the closest he could recall was Sirius, and he too was gone now, as well as any possibility for love in the future. He beat those thoughts back; there was enough to deal with at present without dragging the prophecy into things or entertaining thoughts of love.

It was Hermione, making her first interruption of the conversation, who coughed and drew their attention back to the conversation.

"Right. Sorry, children." Mrs. Weasley said, sitting up straight for the first time since Ginny had stormed out.

Mr. Weasley seemed to take this as his cue, because he straightened up and simply said, "Sirius and I entered Harry and Ginny into a magically binding betrothal, by way of an old blood rite."

He then went on to explain to a stunned Harry, stuttering Ron, and wide-eyed Hermione in more detail what had happened. Harry, finally having been pushed over the edge into shock, dimly registered the words, catching only the main idea here and there. It was only supposed to be a back-up plan in the event that either Mr. Weasley or Sirius died. The three of them had hoped the conditions would never be met, and that they would never need to be told at all. Yet Sirius had died, releasing the magic he had sealed in the ritual and triggering its completion. As such, Harry and Ginny were now emancipated, considered legal adults in the wizarding world and would no longer have to worry about underage magic or the trace. They would receive any inheritances that had required them to be of age in order to receive. This would free them from persecution from the Ministry if they needed to use magic and provide them with monetary resources should they need it. The cost was that they were now not only betrothed, but bound to one another, their magic irreversibly intertwined.

"So what exactly does this mean? Are Harry and Ginny married?" Hermione asked.

"No," Arthur said slowly. "They're not technically married. However, they have been magically bound already, and the binding will soon become public knowledge I'm sure. There's a book that is magically updated at the Ministry of Magic that will have recorded it… with what occurred in the Department of Mysteries, I have no doubt reporters will be looking into all of you."

Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration. After a few false starts, she eventually admitted, "I don't understand."

Looking increasingly tired, Arthur explained, "While they do not have to legally get married- while not _necessary_\- knowing that you have bonded by way of betrothal, people will _expect_ you to marry at some point or there will be talk." He directed his next statement at Harry, "I'm not saying this to pressure you, son- and I'm not certain Ginny would even agree to a marriage- I'm just trying to be as honest as possible with you."

Unsure what to say, Harry nodded in response. What could he really say at this point? There was just so much to process. He certainly hadn't expected _this_ when Mr. Weasley said they had things to discuss.

"But… why? Why would it create a bond that essentially creates a magical marriage, without setting constraints for the legal marriage? It doesn't make sense," Hermione asked quizzically.

Arthur sighed. "These types of rituals are generally only used by the old, pure-blood families that thrive on tradition and ceremony. Because of the nature of the times in which these rituals are used, the binding occurs to solidify the betrothal so that no outside interference can prevent it from proceeding, but the marriage is expected to proceed as customs dictate. In those social circles, a wedding is more of a production. It is understood that because of the nature of the terms, the couple may be separated by whatever conflict is raging or the family may need grieving time before they are ready to host a wedding. It's all very outdated, but…" He gave a helpless shrug. "This particular ritual was designed to ensure the successful transition from the Head of the family to an underage heir, when necessitated by death, in such a manner that would protect the family name and line from outside interference. Even without being married, the way they are bound will prevent them from marrying anyone else or," Harry could see his ears turn red "performing any acts with other partners that would endanger the creation of a legitimate heir."

"You mean Harry and Ginny have to be together or they can't be with _anyone_?' Ron asked incredulously.

Mr. Weasley replied in the affirmative, but Harry didn't really notice. His sex-life, or lack thereof, was not important. Ginny was what was important right now. How great of a risk was she facing because of this? The magic that tied them together now must have been particularly strong if it could read intentions and threats effectively enough to stop occurences of that nature independently. _Hadn't Ginny said Nott was thrown back for touching her?_ He was suddenly concerned about what would happen to her magic if he didn't survive. Being tied to him like this was dangerous. _What had they been thinking? Not only_-

His thoughts and the group's discussion cut off as Ginny suddenly reappeared in the kitchen, her shoulders still back and her face wiped clean of any emotion. There were several pieces of parchment gripped tightly in her hand.

"Ginny! I- What are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley had started to address her daughter, but froze when Ginny ignored her and quickly threw some floo powder into the fireplace, muttered something too low for them to hear, and disappeared in a swirl of green flame before any of them could react.

It was a moment before the five people in the room launched themselves out of the chairs and rushed to the now empty fireplace unthinkingly. It was a mass of confusion as they all stood there rather uselessly.

"Where did she go?! Did any of you hear what she said?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in worry.

"She wouldn't head to the Burrow, would she?" Ron asked.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "She knows it's not safe."

"Maybe Luna's?" Harry asked, unsure.

"No. Luna and her father left directly from King's Cross to go on expedition looking for-" Hermione's explanation was interrupted when the floo flared green and Ginny calmly stepped out.

"Ginny!" "Where did you-" "What were you think-" The overlapping questions were all cut off when the floo flared once more and, to the surprise of everyone besides Ginny herself, Neville Longbottom nervously stepped out into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Silence reigned for a moment, until Mrs. Weasley turned to her daughter aghast. "What were you thinking? Did you even consider the security risk you've just created? You cannot just invite someone to Headquarters without-"

Her chin raised in defiance and she replied, "Seeing as this is apparently _my _house, I think you'll find I can."

The statement was met by gasps and stunned silence by most of the occupants of the room. Mrs. Weasley's face was turning red, however, so Mr. Weasley stepped between the women, recognizing the possibility of an escalating confrontation.

Tiredly, he said, "Perhaps we should all return to our seats, now that we know no one is in danger." They complied with his request, Ginny surprisingly claiming the seat beside Harry with Neville on her other side. Arthur, not wanting to press the issue, simply asked his daughter, "Could you please explain?"

Ginny looked at her father and Harry saw the defiance melt away from her expression, but it remained resolute. She nodded and tossed a thick roll of parchment on the table in front of her father. Even from his spot several seats down, Harry could read the title.

_The Last Will and Testament of Sirius Orion Black._

Harry's eyes slammed shut, as if closing them could block the flood of his emotions as well as the sight, and he had to take a deep breath. He knew Sirius was dead- they had just been discussing a magical betrothal that resulted _because of his death!_\- but it had all been just words that Harry had barely been processing. The whole conversation had felt like he was watching a movie, as if they were discussing characters in someone else's life. His attempt to detach himself had worked more effectively than he had realized until that point, but seeing the words written in Sirius's own hand shattered his emotional wall.

His eyes snapped open again when he felt Ginny's warm hand lay on top of his. He met her eyes and was unsurprised to see them filled with compassion. Whatever would come, it seemed she didn't blame him at least. He saw her shoot a quick glance toward the group gathered around the will before she removed her hand and quickly slipped a letter into his lap underneath the table. Harry didn't even glance at it before slipping it into his pocket. Either it was from her and was meant to be opened in private or it was from Sirius and, by covertly giving it to him, she was giving the opportunity for privacy if he chose it. He was grateful for it.

Their silent exchange was broken when Mr. Weasley finished reading. "Sirius named you his heir." Ginny nodded. "So, you are correct that you are the new owner of this house and are essentially an adult. While it is within your rights to invite whomever you wish to your own home, I'm curious as to why you felt the need to do so, given the circumstances," Arthur said in a surprisingly diplomatic way. He almost sounded like Percy, but without the pompous attitude.

Apparently, Mr. Weasley knew what he was doing, because Ginny's face softened enough to reveal some genuine emotion. It wasn't much, but her eyes widened and her jaw pulled back slightly, allowing a hint of the vulnerability Harry had seen in her earlier to leak through once again.

"I wanted someone to talk to. Someone who was more mine than Harry's." Harry jerked at that. She turned to him with an apologetic look on her face. "I'm not trying to- I don't mean to say-" she cut off with a huff when she couldn't articulate her thoughts properly.

Surprisingly, it Neville who stepped in to help her. "I don't know the details, obviously, but I assume it includes you two? And it's a lot to process?" They nodded. "Harry, you, Ron, and Hermione have been best friends for years." He put up his hands placatingly when the trio tried to interject. "It's great that you're all there for each other like that, and it's not a bad thing, but you're all so close that it doesn't leave much room for anyone else, and that can make things a bit awkward for anyone who isn't, well, the three of you."

Harry looked to Ginny for confirmation. Admittedly, Harry didn't know Ginny as well as he should have, but he didn't feel it was like her to allow someone else to speak for her. To his surprise, she nodded, her wide eyes still conveying a vulnerability that tore at his already frayed nerves.

"It _is _a lot to process," she said nervously, her fingers twining together further putting her nerves on display. "I need to work it out, discuss it with my own friends. I'm sure you want to do the same with Ron and Hermione."

"Ginny," Hermione spoke up, "we're your friends too." Her tone was quiet and even Harry could detect the hurt in it, but he didn't look away from Ginny.

Ginny grimaced. "I know, Hermione, but…" Her eyes darted from Hermione to Ron, then to Harry, as she formulated her response. Eventually she just shook her head. "It's not the same. You know it's not. The three of you are a team, and I'm not a part of it. It is what it is." She shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a defeated air to her. "That's fine- I'm not complaining- but at the end of the day, you hold each other above everyone else, and that's not exactly an environment I feel comfortable sharing my unfiltered thoughts and feelings." She had turned back to Harry for the last part, the look in her eyes pleading for understanding.

Harry didn't _want_ to understand, because it meant admitting how selfish they had been, in particular how selfish _he_ had been, if Ginny felt she couldn't talk to her brother and good friend because she felt they were closer to him than her. He forced himself the swallow that down though and attempted a reassuring look, "Y-yeah. Course."

Her answering smile was tremulous, but he could see the genuine gratitude there.

Mr. Weasley, whose presence he had forgotten until that moment, cleared his throat and drew their attention. "Perhaps Ginny had the right idea. You all were given quite a bit of information unexpectedly and it may be best if we break for a time. Take some time to process, after which I imagine you'll have more questions." He pulled a small, aged black book from his robes and placed it on the table. "This is the journal in which Sirius found the ritual while researching, if you'd like to take a look."

Ginny shook her head and stood, gesturing for Neville to do the same. He followed her lead, though his eyes lingered on the book. "I've seen the book before. We can talk about it later after you lot get a chance to look through it. Neville and I will just…" She trailed off and gestured to the door.

"Go on ahead, Ginny. It's fine," her mother said, her anger having disappeared as quickly as Ginny's. She looked contrite and sad more than anything now.

Her father interjected before she moved away. "Before you go, would the two of you like us to share this with the others now so that you won't have to? It can wait for a bit if you'd rather."

Harry shrugged and looked up to meet Ginny's eyes. She wasn't that much taller than him, even as she stood while he sat. He could see reluctance and wariness in her eyes, a feeling he could identify with, and he could tell she was appraising his feelings as well. He shrugged, trying to keep his expression as even as possible; he could tell that having had this decision made for her was hard enough as it was and he was determined to let her make as many of her own decisions as possible moving forward. When she nodded, he did too.


	3. Chapter 2

Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained seated in the kitchen, the room having been vacated by everyone else. With Harry's tacit permission, Hermione had immediately pounced on the book Mr. Weasley left behind and was flipping through it, while the two males tried to find the words to speak.

Ron, still looking rather pale, finally muttered from across the table, "I still can't believe Mum and Dad used a family blood rite."

Harry cringed at his own ignorance, but asked anyway, "Why is that such a big deal, exactly?"

"Blood rituals are tied into the magic of the individual, right? So in an agreement like that, you're putting your actual magic on the line." Harry nodded along, indicating his understanding. "Family blood rites are even more intense and affect all of the magic originating with the user's blood. If something had gone wrong, if someone had managed to break the agreement before the two of you were bound, not only was the magic of you, Sirius, Ginny, and my dad at risk, but also all of the magic my brothers and I inherited from Dad."

Harry blanched. To lose somewhere around half the magical power he had would be devastating, and Mr. Weasley had risked doing that not only to himself but to all his children? The Weasley parents had said there were things that they couldn't understand at risk, but it still seemed extreme. _What was it they were so worried about?_

All he said, however, was, "I guess that's why they didn't tell anyone else. Like Moody said, right? No one can interfere if they don't know there is anything to interfere with."

Hermione had already begun flipping through the little black book Mr. Weasley left behind for them but paused to say, "It's a lot to risk. There is definitely more going on than they were willing to speak about. Give me a moment to find the actual ritual and read through it."

"It doesn't really make sense. Couldn't Sirius have just made you his heir and emancipated you in his will?" Ron questioned.

"He was a fugitive. There's no way to guarantee that his will would have been accepted and carried out. That's especially true for anything he said having to do with me since the Ministry was under the impression he escaped in order to kill me. Not to mention that to them, I was an unstable, attention-seeking liar. It could have been thrown out entirely," Harry put in.

"Then why make Ginny his heir?" Ron asked.

"While he wasn't willing to bet Harry's safety on his will being executed properly, I'm sure he was still _hopeful_ it would be. Maybe it's like an insurance policy? The bonding isn't an actual marriage for legal purposes. If Harry were to die before they were married, Ginny wouldn't automatically be entitled to any of Harry's estate." Hermione replied absently, turning another page in the Black family journal. She looked up then, as if she were just now truly processing the question. "Then again, he could have just left her money. Actually, it would have made more sense for him to leave her a significant amount of money here within the house if he was truly worried about the will not being executed. So what was he hoping to achieve?"

Harry certainly didn't have any further ideas. If he was being honest with himself, he still wasn't sure how he felt about it. A small part of him resented Ginny as Sirius's heir; shouldn't it have been him as his godson? Then again, didn't Sirius owe it to Ginny to make sure she would be taken care of in any eventuality?

After all, it had been Sirius's suggestion that resulted in her being part of this betrothal that would infinitely tie her in with him, which would put her in an untold amount of danger. Clearly, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had feared for their daughter's safety enough to be convinced the magical freedoms they would gain from the betrothal outweighed the added risk of being tied to Voldemort's most-wanted, but Harry wasn't the slightest bit convinced that their decision hadn't done more harm than good.

His thoughts vacillated, swirling around the issue without finding anywhere concrete to land. There was just so much he didn't understand about the situation. Maybe there was something he was missing. _Hurry up, Hermione_.

Hermione looked up from the page she had been studying and began her explanation, "Based on what is written here, it appears the ritual used your blood-"

"Where did they get the blood? I don't remember giving any to Sirius." Harry couldn't help but ask.

She looked at him with disbelief written all over her face, "Don't you listen in potions at _all? _Th-"

Ron cut in, his look sympathetic, "All purebloods save a vial of their children's blood at birth. It's a safety net. The untainted blood of an infant can be used to counteract magical diseases or curses placed upon the child or their progeny. It's also just plain tradition. Being a Black and knowing what was out there, I'm sure he insisted on keeping some of yours as your godfather."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him for his interruption, but turned to Harry and continued, "Right, so the ritual used a vial representative of the magically binding conditions. It contained the blood of all parties involved, in this case, yours and Ginny's separated by that of Mr. Weasley and Sirius. The blood is actually just an anchor for your magic, however, and the magic of the ritual worked to combine that of you and Ginny. It was only the combined power of Mr. Weasley and Sirius that held it back. When Sirius died, the magic within his blood leached out into the rest of yours, weakening the barrier and strengthening the magic contained within yours and Ginny's enough to allow them to combine as intended. It indicates here that the two of you should have felt it as the magic Sirius left behind was absorbed by yours, but given what was happening at the time..." she trailed off, leaving unsaid that the adrenaline and heartbreak of the battle had likely overpowered anything he should have felt.

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before she continued, "It also looks like they were correct. Now that it's been done, there is no way to break it aside from death, and even then neither of you will be able to enter a marriage that would include a binding ceremony. Harry, to risk this… they must have been truly worried about both of you."

Harry already knew that whatever reasons they had for performing the ritual had been determined with his and Ginny's best interests at heart, whether they were correct in those assumptions or not, and brushed that aside. Instead, he asked what had been nagging at him since he heard that their magic had combined. "What can you tell me about being magically bound to one another?"

"As Mr. Weasley explained, you're now emancipated and free to-"

"Not that," he hastily cut her off. "What about the magic of the betrothal that we absorbed? How tightly is our magic combined? What did he say? Or what does the book say?"

He knew his voice had risen oddly, but he _needed _to know.

He could no longer avoid the issue of the prophecy. There were times he already felt like a dead man walking. _What would it mean for her if that were to come to pass? Would Ginny lose part of her magic if he died? That couldn't be allowed to happen_, he thought fiercely_. _If he failed and Voldemort succeeded, she would be a prime target and would need to be at full power if she had any hope of defending herself and surviving. She didn't deserve a death sentence because of his destiny_. _

He was suddenly angry again. He _knew_ they meant well, but they didn't know about the prophecy, didn't understand what they had just done. _Dumbledore and his secrets_, he seethed internally, _if they had known what his future was like, her parents never would have done this to her. _Then again, it wouldn't have mattered, because he never would have gone to the Department of Mysteries if they had known, and Sirius... He rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses with one hand and turned to pace the room, feeling the stress bearing down on him.

Hermione hadn't answered him, and when he looked back over, it was to find her eyeing him in concern. She studied him fleetingly before looking back to the book, and replying. "I'm not quite sure- I only looked at the mechanics of the ritual- give me a moment. Sirius made references to other pages…" She was already turning pages.

Harry turned to make another pass of the room and caught the expression on Ron's face. His best mate had a look of concern on his face too, but it was different from Hermione's; Ron's expression was more wary as if he was afraid not for Harry, but of what Harry might do.

With a defeated look, he said, "Look, mate, I know this isn't great, considering you and Ginny haven't ever been close and I know her old crush makes this particularly awkward for you, but it could be worse. Hell, it's probably way worse for her, so just... remember that when you talk to her, alright?"

Harry understood the look now. Ron had misread his anger and, likely remembering his outbursts last summer, was concerned that he may lash out at Ginny. He was still seething, but he forced himself to muster some calm and soften his outward demeanor.

Dropping his shoulders and unclenching his fists, he explained, "I'm not angry about being bound to Ginny. I mean- I am, but not like that. You're right. Becoming a part of your family would be brilliant. I've never met a better bunch," here his lips quirked up because that was the honest truth, but his face dropped almost immediately as all his concerns about Ginny and the prophecy came to the forefront of his mind again, "but I'm worried. The more involved I am with your family, the bigger the threat will become to you."

Ron actually had the gall to let out a sarcastic bark of laughter and even Hermione stopped flipping through the book and raised an eyebrow at him. "_Please_ tell me your joking. We're all already in so far deep that we couldn't get out if we tried. We're a bunch of proud blood-traitors that have a borderline feud with the Malfoys, Harry." he said, punctuating it with an eye-roll.

Harry understood the point he was trying to make, but also knew that Ron didn't have all the facts. He needed to tell him or he'd never understand. "Even if all that is true, _Ginny_ will be in even more danger, especially if her magic is tied to mine. I -"

Mrs. Weasley bustling through the door caused Harry to drop his sentence. Telling Ron and Hermione was one thing, but he couldn't stand to see the look on Mrs. Weasley's face if he had to tell her it was either kill or be killed for him. Furthermore, as angry as he was, he absolutely abhorred the idea of having to see her heartbreak when she realized what her decision meant for her daughter.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, dears," she said with feigned lightness, "we could just use some tea for our discussion. Just a moment and I'll be out of your way."

Waving her wand, she assembled all the supplies she needed in less than a minute. As she turned to leave with the tray in hand, Neville walked in as well. They all looked at him in surprise; he hadn't been here long at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had barely scratched the surface of everything yet.

Noticing their questioning looks, he shrugged and explained, "Ginny explained a bit about what was going on and we talked. I promised Gran I wouldn't be gone too long though, so I really need to get going."

Molly eyed him, Harry noted her eyes were still red from all the tears she had shed, and said, "Thank you, not just for coming today, but also for being such a good friend to her. It's a relief to know that she has someone she can talk to in you."

There was a slight blush on his face, but Neville's voice was confident and genuine when he replied, "Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Ginny's always been a good friend to me. I'm happy I could be there for her." The Weasley matriarch gave him a wobbly smile before exiting the room with the supplies she had come for.

Harry couldn't suppress the flair of resentment he felt toward Neville at that moment. He knew he had been a shitty friend in the past and that he should have done better by Ginny, but it seemed like they were all punishing him. Ginny had not only run away from the conversation but had gone through the trouble to go to Longbottom Manor to summon Neville. Now Mrs. Weasley was thanking him for being there for her daughter as if Neville was the only person she had and none of them would have talked to her about it.

Neville must have caught something in his expression, because he asked, "Could I get a quick word, Harry?"

Harry reluctantly nodded.

He directed Neville to the other end of the kitchen out of earshot of the others. Neville was silent for a moment and seemed to be studying him intently. _Where the hell had this Neville come from?_ Harry had known Neville to be strong of character, he'd seen it with his own eyes in fleeting moments throughout the years, but this blatant display of surety was new. It made him uncomfortable, in fact.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, unable to stand the scrutiny any longer. "What's up, mate?"

"I just wanted to be clear on a few things. Ginny… she wasn't trying to hurt any of you, you know that, right?" Neville asked intently. Harry looked down at his feet, unable to answer honestly. "Look, it's like I said earlier, you, Ron and Hermione are so tight-knit that it can make anyone feel like an outsider. Sure, you all fight sometimes, but when it comes right down to it, you'll always have each other's backs. I think she just didn't feel comfortable talking about something of this magnitude feeling like she was the odd man out. She wanted to talk to someone who knew you both, but would support her feelings no matter what."

"I didn't realize you were that close," Harry said petulantly.

He knew he wasn't being fair. Didn't he immediately jump into a discussion with Ron and Hermione about everything? The part of him that wanted to be angry pointed out that they had been discussing the technicalities more than anything and that Ginny didn't have the book and was more likely talking about her feelings. Loathe as Harry generally was to discuss feelings, he didn't think it was fair that Ginny was talking about something so intimately tied to him with Neville.

Neville let out an uncomfortable laugh. "We're about as close as she is with anyone. You know how she is. She's friendly with just about everyone, but I think it's hard for her to get really close to people."

Harry looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she can't really be honest with her friends, can she? Ginny is privy to a lot of secrets that aren't her own. She doesn't have a lot of people she can talk to about it. Even the people she can talk to, she doesn't always feel comfortable doing so with. I think she's coped in the past by keeping it all bottled up, but it usually means she keeps people at a slight distance. You know what I mean?"

Harry stared at him for a moment, before biting out an irritated, "No." Even though he understood the premise, he didn't understand exactly what it meant in regard to Ginny.

"Just look at today, for example. Ron and Hermione were with you when you found out about the betrothal. You didn't have to explain it to them. And even this place, they already know all about the Order and your godfather, so you were all able to talk about it together openly. Ginny didn't have that. Her best friend is Colin and he doesn't know _anything_ about any of this. Hell, until the day of the Ministry, I didn't even know Sirius was your godfather, let alone that he was innocent. I didn't know anything about the Order or this place until today. And if we're being honest, no one was exactly thrilled to see me here, even though my parents were apparently part of the original Order themselves."

Harry considered it for a moment. There was nothing he could say to refute any of what Neville said. All of it was true. He had known all of that in an abstract way, but he'd never put it all together and realized what that meant for her. _How different would his life be if he couldn't talk to Ron and Hermione about everything? _He already almost told them about the prophecy, unable to handle it alone in conjunction with what they had just been told. How could he begrudge Ginny for speaking to Neville about everything when he was seconds away from speaking to them about the prophecy before he told her? If it affected anyone besides him directly, it was Ginny, given the implications of the magical bond. _Shit, I'm an arse. _he thought.

"You're right," was all he said aloud though.

"We're getting off-topic." Neville ran a hand down his face. "I'm not going to tell you anything she's told me. I won't betray her confidence like that. I will say that she's been struggling with Mr. Black's death, but she hasn't been talking about it. I've gotten the impression that she used to talk to him when things were bad?"

Harry thought for a moment. He could still see the determined look on her face when she had insisted on coming with them to the Ministry; he could hear her saying, _"Excuse me! I care about what happens to Sirius just as much as you do!" _At the time, he hadn't given it a thought, but now, remembering not only that moment but also thinking back on things he had heard during his time at Grimmauld Place, he realized that was probably true. He confirmed Neville's theory with a short nod, unable to speak past the lump in his throat at the thought of that night.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is be patient with her, alright? It's a lot for you both and you're both grieving on top of it. It's pretty obvious you aren't happy that she called me, but it's probably for the best that you both had some time to think about it and work it out as individuals before you try to talk to one another. This way there will be fewer misunderstandings, know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. Having gone through several emotional swings in the past few minutes, he couldn't deny that Neville had a point. Wasn't Ron worried about it too? He needed to get his head on straight and get a better understanding of what all this meant before he spoke to her.

Neville nodded and clapped Harry on the shoulder before moving toward the hearth to floo home. A gasp stopped them both in their tracks.

Turning back toward the table where the noise had originated, Harry saw Hermione looking down at the Black journal with horrified glassy eyes and her hand pressed to her mouth. She referenced the parchment in her left hand and began frantically flipping pages in the book again. She paused on a page, eyes skimming it rapidly, and swore a word Harry had never before heard uttered from her mouth before she began her frantic search again. Ron, who had previously been standing behind her chair and looking over her shoulder, eyes scanning the pages she read, paled and muttered a disturbed, "_Merlin_." He reached down and yanked the parchment out of her hands, reading it with wide eyes. Hermione hardly noticed.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest, dread coursing through his veins at the sight of it all. Everything about the scene before him was so foreign that he didn't need to see what they were reading to know how bad it was.

"What is it?" Neville asked in a small voice, reminding Harry of the reluctant, uncertain boy he had known Neville as until recently. Harry saw something in his pinched look that indicated he already had an idea of what they had found.

"It's-" Hermione had to swallow before she could continue, "it's a list of all the things Sirius wanted to avoid and why the betrothal was the best option. There are some _awful_ forms of blood magic recorded here. The things they could do-" She looked like she had wanted to say more, but didn't. She shook her head slightly. "Harry, I- as terrible as these are, it looks like-"

"It was more about Ginny." Ron cut in. Hermione didn't look put out at his interruption, but more relieved. _What?_ Harry looked at him in question, taking in Ron's still ill-looking pallor. His friend didn't meet his eyes though and instead pushed the parchment toward him. "Look, you'll see what I mean."

Harry nervously took the parchment. Immediately, he could see that Ron was correct. There were two columns, one for Harry and one for Ginny, with a list of concerns for each and possible solutions; the latter column was much longer.

Inspecting the lists more closely, he could see his contained what they had already discussed. Sirius was indeed worried about what would happen to him if the Ministry came under Voldemort's control. He was worried about some prospective piece of legislation, his scrawl was messy, but it appeared to say the Proper Guardian Act. He wanted Harry to have autonomy and money so that he could make a run for it if necessary. Emancipating him in his will _had_ been listed as an option, but had been crossed out with "criminal" listed next to it, just like they had suspected. There were a few page numbers listed, which Harry assumed referred to some of the blood magic Hermione had mentioned, that were annotated by the mysterious Act Sirius referred to and circled with a line drawn to "betrothal". Harry took this to mean that they were only a concern if the Act were passed and could be prevented by the betrothal.

Ginny's column was much longer. Everything on his side was also present on hers, however, the list of pages referenced in the Black journal was much more extensive. All of them were circled and linked to the word "betrothal" just as his had been, but there was an urgency to the way it was written; the letters were slanted and there was a vicious tilt to the lines that crossed out and underlined various sections of the parchment that made it clear to Harry the weight and anxiety Sirius felt during his research. Some of the crossed-out sections included suggestions made that didn't provide enough protection, including making Ginny his heir; that particular suggestion had been crossed out and a line drawn to "criminal status" there as well. It was written again however with "political- just in case" alongside it with "her family" written below. Harry paused at that and looked at his companions, who had been watching him.

"What does this 'political- just in case' here mean?" Harry asked, indicating where it was written and showing it to them."What does it have to do with your family?" He asked Ron in particular.

To his surprise, Neville barely glanced it at before nodded to himself. "I thought that might be the case," he said quietly. When they all looked at him, he sighed. "Guess I can tell you this much. Obviously, you know that Sirius made Ginny his heir, instead of just leaving everything to her."

"But Ginny isn't a Black," Hermione interjected. "I assumed the Blacks were a patriarchal family. How could he name her his heir when the next closest living male Black would be Draco? Even if women are allowed to inherit, shouldn't it be Be-" She cut herself off quickly, glancing at Harry with a panicked look on her face. Truthfully, the thought that Bellatrix Lestrange for all intents and purposes killed Sirius and could stand to be in line to inherit everything made him want to destroy something.

Neville must have sensed Harry's descent into fury, for he quickly tried to move past the moment. "The heir doesn't have to be the next in line, so long as there is some blood relation. Draco isn't anymore closely related to Sirius than Ginny is. In fact, with the ritual they did, there's a small bit of his magic living in each of you now, so she should have more Black family magic than he does."

Harry vaguely recalled the Black family tapestry that Sirius had been blasted off of, along with Tonks' mother Andromeda and any other family members that hadn't strictly adhered to the idea of blood supremacy. There was a Weasley that had married a Black, but that was generations back if he was correct. A Black had married a Prewitt…

"He's right. Grandmum Prewitt was Orion Black's sister," Ron said.

Hermione perked up. "I remember now! I was surprised she hadn't been blasted off the tree by Walburga for that, but none of their offspring was recorded, so maybe... " She shook her head and focused again. "That doesn't matter. The point is that Draco is related through his grandfather, a member of Sirius's maternal line- whereas Ginny's lineage can be traced to Sirius's paternal grandfather, and as such would actually be more closely related to the male Black line than Draco, or anyone else on that side of the family, is."

"Right," Neville nodded, looking relieved. It was then that he remembered he wasn't the only person who hated Bellatrix Lestrange with a burning passion. Neville had lost more to her malicious taste for cruelty than anyone, certainly more than Harry. "That's why he was _able_ to designate her as heir. He actually _did_ it for political reasons. Look here," he pointed out the section of the parchment that indicated ways to help Harry go on the run from the Ministry if it came to it, "Harry had the freedom to go on the run if necessary. There are things that make that easier, obviously, but it still could have been done without them. The Ministry couldn't hold anyone else accountable if Harry simply disappeared. Ginny wouldn't have that luxury. The Weasleys are too exposed to the public for that."

Neville turned to Ron, addressing him specifically. "Your dad works for the Ministry, along with Percy- I know he's estranged from your family right now, but it doesn't mean they wouldn't go after him-, Bill works for Gringotts and the twins are in Diagon Alley. Think about it, if Ginny was wanted by the Ministry and suddenly disappeared, all of them would prove to be easy targets. They could be arrested in her place for collusion or any number of things. With the betrothal, she is an adult and that provides some protection, but her being the heir to the Black family comes with a large fortune and a prestigious place in Wizarding society. She will be the head of an Ancient and Noble family and will inherit their seat on the Wizengamot. That makes it harder for anyone to move against her, and by extension, the rest of your family."

"Money and political standing," Ron said in disbelief. "That's why Dad has never been able to make any headway against Lucius Malfoy, because that's what he has. I never thought Dad would stoop to his level." His eyes trailed over the parchment and lingered on the book again, his expression turning sick. Swallowing, he said, "Then again, I didn't know things like _that_ were so easy to accomplish." His tone took on a note of resignation, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but they did the right thing."

They didn't say anything, but Harry could see that Hermione and Neville agreed with him. His earlier desperation and anger returned. _What were they all thinking? How could they not see the danger Ginny was in by her association with him?_ His irritation spiked and he bit out incredulously "What exactly are these rituals? What do they have to do with Ginny? And why her, why not you or Hermione or anyone else?"

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence in which no one answered him. Hermione's cheeks turned faintly pink and her mouth opened and closed several times, Ron turned away, the ill look on his face turned into a grimace, and Neville stood stoic with his mouth in a hard line. It was Hermione who spoke first.

Her voice was timid when she said, "Well, seeing as I'm a muggleborn, they wouldn't exactly be interested in me, and there are already enough male Death Eaters…" she swallowed nervously and trailed off before she too looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught the way Ron's fists clenched and his shoulders tightened.

His ire rose. _Why could no one just give him a straight answer, for once?_

"They'd breed her," Neville said bluntly.

Harry swung toward him in shock. "_What?!_"

Ron and Hermione flinched at his tone, but Neville didn't back down at the force of Harry's outburst. He was once again carrying himself with that surprisingly strong persona that had been hiding all these years. "Ginny is a pureblood witch, not to mention a seventh child and the only girl in the family. I don't think you realize just how rare that is. Magical pregnancies are extremely difficult, in that they consume a great deal of magic from the mother, which is why there are so few large magical families. Not only all that… I don't know if any of you noticed, but Ginny is a powerful witch. I know, Harry, that you cast a Patronus at thirteen, so it may seem like it's not that big of a deal to you, but how many other fourteen year olds were able to cast a corporeal Patronus?" Harry hadn't considered it before, but it was true that while Luna had also been able to cast a Patronus, she was already fifteen, while Ginny was only a few months past her fourteenth birthday. Neville continued as Harry processed this information. "They'd want to breed her. The truly zealous purebloods know the kinds of rituals that would allow a Death Eater to bind her to them and take away her will."

Harry looked at Hermione sharply and asked, "Could they really do that?"

His tone was sharper than he meant it to be and she still looked a little frightened of him. "According to this, yes. They would need permission from a guardian, but we know Sirius and the Weasleys were worried about surviving the war. They were rambling a bit earlier, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley indicated that they hadn't actually gone through with the ritual until after the attack on Mr. Weasley at Christmas. Mrs. Weasley still would have been able to object, but there are all these mentions of some 'Proper Guardian Act' in the notes that seem to indicate they were worried about losing custody."

Neville interjected, "I actually know a bit about that. It was a bit of legislation that the Death Eaters in the Ministry were trying to push through last time. It would have taken custody of children whose parents died or otherwise 'lacked the necessary resources' to provide for their children and given it to the 'more qualified' families." He grimaced. "No doubt they would have ended up with families the likes of the Malfoys. For someone like Ginny, she likely would have been sold off in a betrothal or otherwise forced into some undesirable circumstances." The other three looked at him in stunned silence. Noting Hermione's questioning look he explained, "My parents had a living will, with a very long line of possible guardians. My family is wealthy and a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so it just seemed like overkill to me. I asked Gran about it and she told me, explaining that they didn't want to leave anything to chance. It wasn't public knowledge, but my parents were Aurors. It's probably how Sirius knew too."

Feeling disgusted and angry, Harry hung his head and he asked in defeat. "Why me though? You said yourself that I could have gone underground without hurting anyone. Why couldn't they have performed this ritual with someone whose guardian wasn't likely to die?"

Ron immediately rounded on Harry, his face red, and poked him hard in the chest. He hissed, "_That's my sister_, _Harry_. Don't talk about it like being with her is the worst thing that could happen to you."

Harry's anger with the situation, which truthfully hadn't been far from the surface to begin with rose, and he pushed Ron back. "It's not about me!" He yelled back. "How is it that none of you can see what they've done to her by sticking her with me. She's already a target for the Death Eaters just because of what she is, but I'm on _Voldemort's_ personal list and you can bet she'll be on it now too!"

Ron, who had been glaring at him, blanched, his face going slack. This was the reaction he had expected. The way Hermione bit her lip and Neville looked down, however, were not. He narrowed his eyes and looked at them meaningfully.

Hermione cast a nervous glance at Neville who shuffled his feet guiltily.

"_What_?" Harry asked impatiently.

Neville broke first. "I don't know anything exactly," he said, raising his hands placatingly. "I just got the impression that there was more to this. Ginny was a bit evasive." Harry got the impression that he knew, or at least suspected, something he didn't feel comfortable sharing. Harry figured Hermione probably had a better guess anyway and pinned his glare on her instead of pushing Neville further.

Looking very uncomfortable, Hermione reluctantly said, "I think she may have already been on his personal list, Harry." She cast a furtive glance at Neville. "Think about it, about her _history_."

It hit Harry like the Hogwarts Express. "The Chamber," he whispered.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: I forgot the author's note last time, but thank you to everyone for the reviews and feedback. Extra thanks to the wonderful people on the Discord. **

**This chapter jumps back a bit, to the end of Chapter 1 but will end shortly before the next chapter, if that makes sense. It's also a bit short, but here's a little context for Ginny.**

Neville followed her obediently out of the kitchen. Ginny didn't mean to be rude or dismissive by not offering him much in the way of explanations- there was just too much to say and not enough privacy to say it yet. He was a true friend, however, and didn't seem to hold it against her.

She had never been to Longbottom Manor before she showed up unexpectedly and said she needed a friend, yet he had simply agreed without further questioning. He had asked just once if she was alright, but hadn't pushed when she had said, "Not here," and thrust the piece of paper stating "The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place" written in Albus Dumbledore's hand toward him. With a quick farewell to his grandmother and a promise to return shortly, he had followed and stood by her side since.

Even now, as Ginny cast an imperturbable charm at the closed kitchen door and made a point to step on the two flesh-colored strings on the floor that she knew to be Fred and George's extendable ears, all he did was raise an eyebrow at the underage magic. She had never been so grateful for his friendship.

She led him past the second floor, using a locking charm on the door that led to the room she and Hermione shared as she passed, before she led him to the study attached to the Master bedroom. She was fond of this particular room as it was rarely used by anyone besides herself, contained a grand piano she enjoyed playing and was one of the few private places in the house presentable enough that her mother hadn't forbidden her from entering. She closed the door behind him and cast another imperturbable charm.

If it had been any other occasion, she may have worried what her mother would say about her being behind a closed door with a boy. Given her current circumstances, that was laughable now. She didn't feel like laughing though.

Instead, she felt exhausted and dropped down on the piano bench, hiding her face behind her hands. Neville sat in a chair across the room.

After a moment, she looked up and met his eyes. "Thank you," she said simply. "Just… thank you."

He gave her something resembling a smile and replied, "Anytime, Ginny. You know that." After a bit of silence, he asked, "Now that we seem to have gotten where we were going, mind filling me in a bit? I'm happy to just sit with you, but I got the impression there may be something you want to talk about?" He raised his voice at the end and the teasing note there thawed some of Ginny's anxiety.

She blew out a breath and smiled slightly. "Yeah… yeah."

The words refused to come, however. She wasn't quite sure where to start.

"How about I go first? I've already gathered that this house belonged to Sirius Black, but that he left it to you and that it's under Fidelius as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix." She nodded and raised a brow in question. "I actually know about the Order, or at least what it used to be. My parents were members before they… well, before." He shook his head, dispelling the bad thoughts that had accumulated there. "So, why don't you tell me what's happened with Harry?"

Deciding to just go for it, she said, "We've been betrothed."

"Alright," he replied, but his face held confusion. "Clearly you two weren't consulted or this wouldn't be such a big deal, and I'm a little surprised your parents would do something like that, but you're not even fifteen yet. You don't even have to begin worrying about having to get married for years. Maybe by then, things will change or you'll find a way to dissolve it. I've seen it happen time and time again with the pureblood families."

She had let him continue talking as if he had the full context simply because she didn't want to have to admit the truth. Saying it out loud would make it more real, and she definitely didn't want it to be real. Yet, she had to. He couldn't begin to understand why she was losing it if he didn't know what had happened.

She started composed, attempting to hold back the panic, but slowly she broke as she related the truth. "They used one of those really old, unbreakable, blood rituals to do it. We're magically bound, irrevocably. And I just... Don't even know what to do with that information. It's complete insanity. I cannot believe that my parents, that Sirius, did this without so much as a warning. And yet," she held up her hand to reveal the crumpled parchment that was the letter Sirius had left her in explanation, "I _know_ why, but it doesn't change how it's- it's just unfair. I- I needed someone to talk to, and I just… couldn't do it with them. You obviously know what I mean though, because you explained it perfectly." She had been rambling at increasing speed, unable to contain her borderline hysteria, until her breath finally ran out and she was forced to take a break. With renewed oxygen and slightly calmer, she asked, "Was I too hard on them? I didn't mean to…" she trailed off helplessly.

"No," Neville said slowly, thoughtfully. "Clearly, it's a lot. I think everyone works through something like this in different ways. I'm not sure if you noticed, but Harry hardly said a word at all, except when he answered you. I think… I think whatever happens today, everyone will understand in the end. This isn't exactly a normal situation." He looked around for a moment, his gaze distant as he mulled over the scant information she gave him. "Can you explain a little bit about why? You said Sirius explained it, but I just can't see anyone risking a blood rite betrothal without having some strong reasoning. I mean, I get Sirius being willing to risk it all to protect Harry, given how often bad things happen to him, and him choosing you. I'm not sure I understand what your parents were thinking though. That kind of thing is borderline Dark and really risky- not the kind of thing the Weasleys would normally be associated with."

"According to Sirius, things could get bad… my family is well known for our association with Harry and for being blood traitors. We'll all be targets, but they were worried the Death Eaters may come after me. Because I'm - well I'm a young pure-blood witch from a… generative family." She met his eyes, pleading with him to simply understand without making her say it aloud. The thought still made her skin crawl.

She was lucky that he did understand quickly. It only took a moment before understanding dawned and his face twisted, mirroring her disgust. "Still, there must have been other ways. If they were willing to step into the land of questionable blood rituals, there are chastity rituals-" shocked, she tried to sputter something, but he cut her off, "-hey, it may be unpleasant, but you would have been safe from… _that_ at least. Attaching you to Harry in that way, well, it puts a spotlight directly on you, doesn't it? Seems extreme."

Ginny adored Neville, honestly. He didn't laugh at her, or judge her, or even ask her for more information that she was comfortable giving. He was the friend she was most honest with - admittedly that wasn't as indicative of her honesty as one would think, given how much she chose to keep to herself - but she hadn't told him anything about the Chamber that he didn't already know and she had told him nothing of Tom Riddle. Not wanting to get into _that _right now, she chose her words carefully.

"There are things I don't tell people - about my past - that Sirius knew." He looked surprised, so she explained a bit. "I didn't exactly decide to confide in him," she clarified. "Remember during your fourth year how I would go for walks looking for that stray dog I told you about?" He nodded. She scrunched up her nose, feeling a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. "Well, he wasn't so much a stray as he was Sirius in his animagus form, and I may have been rather transparent with him before I was aware of that fact."

Neville's face showed disbelief for a moment, before melting into amusement. "Really? You spent your second year taking care of and talking to a fugitive in disguise? One who happens to be innocent and Harry's godfather, no less?" He shook his head in disbelief and laughed.

_So much for not laughing at me, _she thought. Ginny pursed her lips and tried to show her annoyance, but she had found the truth funny as well once her nerves had faded after that initial meeting; her face broke into an involuntary smile and she chuckled. "I know," she said, "Only me, right?"

The levity only lasted a moment before the laughter drained from his face and his expression turned questioning again. Ginny sighed and continued, "I told him things, things that I hadn't told anyone, that led him to believe I may be on T- You-Know-Who's personal list already." She shrugged off-handedly, trying not to think about the reasons why. "I guess they just figured if the target was already on both of us, it was better if we were protected and together than facing him separately."

She looked down and used her left thumb nail to clean under the nails of her right fingers before switching hands and repeating the process. She knew it was nasty habit, but she had developed it after the Chamber when the blood, grime, and ink had stained the skin there; no matter how many times she washed her hands, the stubborn darkness refused to leave until she had gouged them bloody. Even after they had been cleaned to the point of shining, there were times she swore she could still feel the filthy mixture under her nails, the same way she swore the stench of the Chamber still lingered in her hair. She couldn't begin to count how often she had washed both the summer following her first year. Occasionally, she still felt the compulsion when particularly stressed.

_Moments like now_, she thought, still avoiding looking at Neville and silently begging him not to ask any more questions. Today was too much already. She missed Sirius, she hadn't slept properly in days, and the only time she had eaten today was for show when everyone was watching. She spent so much effort putting on a front of composure, but the despair was there, ever-present just below the surface. Returning to this place had only compounded it, and there was a moment when they had first arrived that she thought it may have broken through; if telling off Kreacher hadn't provided an outlet for some of her desperation, she was sure she would have cracked.

She hadn't realized she'd become lost in her thoughts until she registered the silence and became aware of the weight of Neville's gaze. Finally, she braved looking up and meeting his eyes.

Neville, bless him, wasn't looking at her in a way that was searching for answers. His gaze only held sympathy and compassion. Softly, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Ginny. Clearly, he must have cared a lot for you and I can tell you miss him."

Her eyes burned and her throat tightened uncomfortably until it _hurt _to breathe. She didn't attempt to talk, just nodded and fought against the onslaught of emotion his words had brought. No one had said those words to her. She really wouldn't have expected them to, seeing as no one was quite aware of just how close she and Sirius had been, but the outside confirmation of their relationship affected her more than she could say.

He stood then, grimacing, and said, "I know it's a bad time and I'm sorry, but I have to get going if I want Gran to let me come back. Can I come by tomorrow and we can talk some more?"

Making sure her mask was in place, she gave him a smile and agreed. He eyed her skeptically for a moment, and though she was certain her features gave nothing away, she could tell he wasn't fooled. When he offered her a hug, she didn't hesitate to take it.

After a moment spent toning down her reaction, she said in a thick voice, "Thank you." She felt him nod against her head before he released her and left, insisting he could find his way back to the kitchen on his own.

For a moment, Ginny just sat at the piano where she and Sirius used to play together, her hands idly stroking the keys as she stared into space and tried to hold it together. Being in Grimmauld Place was torture, she realized. Even though Sirius had hated his family home with a passion, it had been the only place she had ever known him as himself. Before meeting him here, he had been Snuffles to her. Her overwhelmed mind conjured up the memory. The fact that her brain thought memories of those difficult months following the Chamber incident were somehow preferable to her current predicament showed just how despondent she was feeling.

_Ginny had taken to walking the grounds alone. It was cold out and likely quite foolish being so far from the castle, alone at that, with the dementors patrolling the perimeter of the grounds, but she needed to get away. She needed time to think._

_Her second year at Hogwarts hadn't started off as badly as her first, but it wasn't great either. _

_While she had tentatively rekindled her friendship with Colin, she still felt guilty for what had happened to him last year and it often left her feeling uncomfortable in his presence. Merlin, he could have died if he hadn't been using his camera. _

_The girls in her dorm, who had been condescending of her second-hand things and general poorness to begin with, were now weary around her to boot, so she avoided them as much as they avoided her. While no one knew that it was Ginny that had opened the Chamber of Secrets, her odd behavior the previous year and the fact that she had been taken into the chamber itself seemed to make people suspicious of her._

_Her brothers… well, her brothers were trying. They made sure to check in with her frequently, but they weren't friends. She didn't feel like one of them anymore. They were more or less her parole officers. They checked in on her- making sure she was back to the common room by curfew, ensuring she was at every mealtime, monitoring that she was indeed eating at said mealtimes- all to her intense annoyance. _Where were they last year when she was _actually_ missing for large periods of time?

_Ginny sighed and tried to shake the bitterness. It was over and done with now. Plus, after hearing Tom's voice in her head on the train during her run-in with the dementors, she was desperately trying to avoid thinking about that time._

_Last year she had been weak. She had been insecure and subsequently foolish. This year would be better. Even if not all of her behavior was completely honest, she would try. She had been doing a decent enough job of it so far. She laughed and smiled at the appropriate times, she helped the twins with their pranks, and she stood up for herself when slighted. The last part was particularly easy. Funneling sadness into anger made things easier. She wasn't going to cry anymore (at least not during the day, not when she had control over it.) She wasn't going to be the stupid, blushing little girl who had a crush on the boy-who-lived. With the exception of the first time she had seen him, she had been doing fairly well on that point. _

_It was easier than she had thought to change her behavior around Harry. Truthfully, she hadn't blushed at him, rather at the girl who she had been a year prior, the one who blushed every time she saw the boy she thought of as a hero. The past year had changed both her and the way she viewed him. He wasn't the hero from the stories she had heard growing up. She had seen him in the chamber - young, small, and easily as frightened as she had been. Of course, he had played the role of hero to her damsel in distress despite the fact that he wasn't all that different from her. After seeing him like that, Ginny realized that for the most part, Harry was _just Harry_. _

_He could be caring and funny, but could just as easily be a stupid, insensitive prat who was no different than any of her brothers had been at his age. Ruminating on Ron's quick dismissal after they boarded the Hogwarts Express in September, she wondered why she had thought for even a moment that Harry may have considered defending her. Ginny wasn't _Ginny_ to him; he had come to her rescue last term not because she was in danger, but because there was a danger that needed to be defeated. Harry couldn't seem to prevent himself from helping those in need._

_That was okay though. Ginny didn't need Harry to be the hero. Specifically, she didn't need or _want_ Harry- or anyone else for that matter- to be _her_ hero. She never again wanted to be the damsel in distress. This year she fully intended to work harder and longer than ever, until she was certain she could take care of herself. Nothing was going to hold her back. She would never make the mistake of relying on anyone again the way she had relied on Tom last year - or that was what she had planned until the dementors had brought the memories of Tom roaring back._

_Once she had reached a corner of the lake out of view of the castle, she leaned over and looked at her reflection in the glassy water. She could see her red hair hanging limply, but with the slightest shine. She could see her brown eyes, but they were truthfully emotionless. Her skin was pale and dotted with freckles, perhaps just a shade paler than it should be. What she couldn't see was what she truly looked like: the deep purple that stained the bags under her eyes, the wan color her skin had become, the whiteness of her lips; these particular features were conveniently disguised by the glamour potions Fred and George had invented for her over the summer._

_Despite how messed up everything still was, Ginny smiled to herself as she considered her family. She had been terrified when she first woke up in the Chamber that they would want nothing to do with her, but they had all loved her and done their best to help. In so many different ways, her family had proven to her this summer what an extraordinary gift being a member of the Weasley family was._

_When she woke up screaming each night after being haunted by memories of Tom and the Chamber, she woke to the comforting presence of her family surrounding her, offering their support by simply being there. _

_When her dad won the Ministry galleon drawing, they had spent the money on a trip to Egypt instead of something practical, because they knew how much Ginny had been suffering and how much she missed her eldest brother Bill. _

_When Bill had found her crying after she had overheard her parents discussing sending her to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts if she didn't start to improve, he had taken her upstairs and taught her a silencing charm powerful enough to encapsulate her bed for the entire night. He knew without being told how much she wanted to return to Hogwarts and that the nightmares had been her parents' biggest concern._

_When her nightmares changed and she started remembering the things Tom had originally made her forget and could no longer sleep, Fred had been there for her. He had found her one night sitting atop her bed with her knees drawn to her chest, exhausted but struggling to stay awake for fear of falling asleep and finding what else Tom had left dormant in her mind. He had realized that the nightmares hadn't stopped- that she had been hiding them instead- and told her she was welcome to sneak into his bed whenever she liked. He had never once complained or demanded an explanation when she had done so. He simply hugged her and told her that he and George would look after her while she slept._

_When she and the twins had overheard her mother commenting on Ginny's exhausted appearance and asking their father if he thought they should send her to St. Mungo's for some sort of treatment, George took one look at her panicked face, grabbed her hand and promised they'd find a way to avoid it. Two days later, Fred and George had presented her with a glamour potion of their own invention that was so subtle it was undetectable by magical means. It was perfect; it had just enough potency to make Ginny look like she was getting better, but not as if she had suddenly rebounded._

_Even Percy and Ron had found a surprisingly effective way to help her, largely thanks to their favorite muggleborn witches. After being revived by the mandrake draught, Penelope and Hermione had an in-depth discussion on the psychological ramifications of having been petrified, particularly post-traumatic stress disorder. Hermione had even given him a book about it, and Percy had recognized the symptoms in Ginny over the summer. When she refused to talk to mind-healer and all other magical forms of intervention, he researched muggle methods. He had privately presented his findings to the family, suggesting music may provide a creative outlet. She already knew how to play the piano thanks to her time spent at Aunt Muriel's and they thought perhaps she could write her own music._

_Ron had agreed with the family that Ginny needed to do something to express what she was going through, but he had his reservations about presenting her with something resembling a diary and vetoed their idea for a songbook. He and Ginny had been so close once that he knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to trust writing her words down. He had written to Hermione, who suggested perhaps Ginny could learn to play guitar. All of her brothers had pooled their resources to buy her a muggle guitar for her birthday. Her father had charmed it to shrink and expand with the tap of her wand. It now hung like a charm from the bracelet her parents had given her on her birthday. Learning to play and having that private creative outlet- for she only played when she was certain she was alone- had been a great help. With the exception of when Harry had rescued her, she had never felt so grateful in her life._

_While she was grateful for all that her family had done, it had still been a difficult summer. She wasn't better, not really. She was still hardly sleeping and she was deeply exhausted. She wasn't eating much better either; the little food she managed to force down at meals was for appearance's sake. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that so many of her clothes had been her brother's hand-me-downs; between the shapelessness of their old clothing and her beginning curves, her shape appeared far less thin that it actually was._

_Ginny looked away from her reflection and took in her surroundings. She was surprised to find that she wasn't exactly alone. A dozen or so feet away, slightly tucked away in some nearby shrubs, Ginny could make out the shape of a large but thin black dog. Honestly, if he weren't so straggly looking, he could have passed for a grim. She couldn't help letting out a chuckle at the thought of how Ron would have reacted to seeing him. He would freak! As it was, however, Ginny couldn't bring herself to feel threatened as she took in his general air of neglect and the sadness in his eyes._

_Instead of shrieking or panicking, Ginny smiled at the poor guy. Softly, so as not to startle him, she said, "Hello, are you okay? You can come out." After a moment in which he didn't respond, she further cajoled, "I won't hurt you. I promise."_

_The dog made no move to join her, but stared intently as if appraising her. In other circumstances, Ginny probably would have been disheartened that even a dog didn't seem to want to be her friend. Looking at his broken appearance however, she couldn't blame him. Upon closer scrutiny, he appeared to be shaking and there was a strange quality to his breathing. Thinking of the lunch in her bag that she had taken with her for the sole purpose of getting Percy to leave her alone, she pulled it out and offered it to the dog. _

"_Here," she said gently, "How about a show of good faith? Come on, take it. I wasn't planning on eating it anyway. You look like you could use it." Moving slowly, she reached forward and pushed it in his direction._

_Tentatively, he- for Ginny assumed by the dog's large frame that it must be male- came forward and sniffed cautiously. He shifted his gaze to give her a look that Ginny could only describe as suspicious, before the effect was ruined when he let out a cross between a cough and a sniffle. She felt terrible for doing it, but she suddenly couldn't hold it in anymore and laughed out loud. He gave a startled yelp before backing away._

"_I'm sorry, Snuffles!" Ginny breathed out through her giggles. "But, this is absurd! You've certainly seen better days, but we're practically the same size. I'm not about to hurt you. You're looking at the food as if I've poisoned it when you're the one who snuck up on me." She let out another, borderline hysterical, laugh, before continuing, "And now I'm talking to you as if you have a clue what I'm saying!"_

_To her great surprise, her outburst didn't frighten the poor guy. Instead, he let out a short bark and huffed, almost as if he was laughing himself, and wagged his tail weakly before trotting over and helping himself to the food she had laid out. When he had finished, he very slowly approached her and quickly licked her cheek before retreating. _

_Even his lick had been cold and, now that he was closer, Ginny could tell that he was definitely sick. "Wait!" she exclaimed. She was surprised when he froze in his tracks and tilted his head at her, as if in question. She removed her cloak and slowly draped it over him before backing away. "I'm sorry that's the best I can do right now. I wish I could take you up to the castle with me, but they only allow cats, owls, or toads." _

_She looked toward the castle and chewed the inside of her cheek wondering if it were possible to sneak him in. Her attention was brought back to the dog, whom she decided to permanently name Snuffles, when he nudged her with his nose and curled up on the ground beside her. She smiled and snuggled into his side, willing to set the matter aside for now as Snuffles seemed content for the moment. _

_Snuffles closed his eyes as Ginny began to pet him. She had intended to come out here and play guitar, but somehow she had found something better. Looking over at him and smiling to herself, she thought, Maybe there is something to the therapy animals I read about in Hermione's book. Snuffles may have just been a dog to anyone else, but it left her feeling better than she had in a long time knowing that she'd done something to help a lonely, suffering creature._

She smiled remembering that feeling of accomplishment and the following friendship she formed with Snuffles. Having him to talk to, to confide in, to protect and be protected by had made such a difference in her recovery. _Maybe my brain knows what it's doing_, she thought in amusement. The memory reminded her that while things had been bad then, seemingly impossibly difficult at times, they had gotten better. She needed to remember that now.

Even when she nearly had a panic attack as she first realized that Snuffles was actually _Sirius Black_ and that the man they would be living with knew all her deepest, darkest secrets, it had turned out for the best. It had been exactly a year ago, in fact, that she met him as he truly was and their mutual friendship bloomed._ But Sirius made the difference before, _the traitorous, defeatist part of her that had been what allowed Tom to grip her so readily whispered, _and he's not here now. _

She quickly fled the study and headed toward the room that had belonged to Sirius. It was where she felt most comfortable. She would have brought Neville there, but something about it seemed private, and she hadn't been willing to share it with him. Now that she was alone, however, there was nothing holding her back.

Earlier, after she had first come to realize what her parents had done, Ginny exited the kitchen feeling shaky and doing her best to hold onto her regained composure. In her shock, she had already shown those in the kitchen more true emotion than she was generally comfortable with; she was not about to let those waiting outside it see any of them. There was no need for that kind of facade now with everyone still on the lower levels of the house, however, and she shamelessly fled up the stairs to the fourth floor in search of comfort.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally arrived. Sirius was gone, but she could still feel his presence in his room. The gold and crimson color scheme reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, while the muggle photos of scantily-clad women just plain reminded her of him, and contrasted the oppressive feeling of the threatening green and serpent theme that decorated the interior of the rest of the house. His room stood out against the rest of the house the same way that he had stood out against his family name; he was a rebel and a joy. He had been trustworthy and comforting. She _missed_ him.

He was her closest friend really, the only person she was always and without fail honest with, and she had a feeling she had been the same for him. When she first came up here earlier, she hadn't come to seek comfort as she did now; she had gone because she knew from their discussions what no one else would have known: where to look for anything he may have left behind for them.

The fourth book from the right on the second shelf from the bottom, titled _Understanding Muggle Turns of Phrase_, was not what it appeared to be. Instead of a ridiculously large, but otherwise unremarkable, brown book about the various Muggle idioms that the standard witch or wizard lacked the background information to comprehend, it was actually a magical lock-box which could only be opened with a key that had been spelled by the creator. He had warned her that anyone who attempted to tamper with it without a key would _not_ like the consequences. Knowing him as she did, she was grateful that she would never have to find out what those consequences were, as he had given her a key of her own. It was in the form of a charm for her bracelet shaped like a quaffle that he had given her for Christmas. She tried hard not to acknowledge that he had probably done it in preparation for a situation just like this.

It was in this box that she had found the note he had left for her with the paper containing the location of Grimmauld Place in it, as well as the note he left Harry and a copy of his will. Her thoughts caught on _Harry _briefly -that was a mess she hadn't begun to untangle, even to herself, except in the broadest terms - and she shrunk away from it yet again, taking stock of what she had found again instead.

The vial full of their blood that had been in box was now sitting on the desk drawing her attention; it was now harmless, but it had previously contained the magic that had been used in the ritual to seal their fate. It was still sitting where Ginny had left it, looking innocuous enough that she felt it was mocking her.

Without a thought, she grabbed it off the desk, clenching it tightly in her fist. As she stared, it occurred to her that she may feel better if she could destroy the vial itself. It wouldn't undo the damage the ritual had done, but maybe she could imagine she was crushing the hopelessness she felt bearing down on her as the full implications slammed into her.


	5. Chapter 4

Hermione stopped at the door to the room she normally shared with Ginny and knocked lightly. After the revelation of the Chamber, Ron had insisted they find Ginny immediately. Hermione agreed after a brief hesitation and the trio set off to find her while Neville departed.

Softly, she called out, "Ginny, it's Hermione. May I come in?" After a moment of no response, she tried again a little louder, "Ginny?" She attempted to turn the handle but found it was locked. She turned back toward Ron with her brows furrowed, eyes questioning. Ron just shook his head sadly before walking further down the hall.

Hermione huffed and turned to Harry, "Can you go after him? I know Ginny said she needed to talk to her own friends," she shifted nervously and a pained look crossed her face. Harry felt guilty too as Neville's earlier words and their implications crossed his mind again. "But she could probably use a female to talk to. If Luna and her father hadn't left immediately from the station, I imagine Ginny would have contacted her instead of Neville."

Harry, already over the brief disagreement he had with Ron before the revelation of the Chamber, nodded and rushed to follow his friend while Hermione returned to speaking to Ginny through the closed door. Ron must have been walking slowly, for even with his longer legs, he was still in the hall when Harry reached the top of the stairs. Harry was surprised, however, when Ron continued past the room they shared and up the stairs to the third floor. Perplexed by his friend's actions, Harry followed. Harry caught up to him on the third-floor landing.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry questioned.

Ron glanced at him briefly. Distractedly, his eyes glancing at the doors that lined the hall all the while, he explained, "Ginny won't be in her room. She locked the door to make us think she is, but I guarantee she's not. She used to do it all the time at the Burrow. I just need to figure out-" Suddenly his eyes brightened and he took off at a brisk pace toward the fourth floor.

Harry followed slowly, unsure if he was ready to talk to Ginny yet or even if she was ready to talk to anyone. She was deliberately hiding- wasn't that an indication that they should leave her alone? He was just about to raise the question but found himself stopping without conscious thought when he saw the room Ron had entered.

It was Sirius's bedroom. He hadn't ever been in it, even when Sirius was alive. That thought served as a stark reminder of the lifetime of possible experiences Harry could have shared with the man that were now lost forever.

His moment of hesitation allowed Ron to slip inside. When he closed the door, however, the latch didn't engage in time and the door remained open a crack, allowing the murmur of the Weasley siblings' voices to reach Harry's ears, and he was suddenly struck by a sense of deja vu. Almost in a daze, Harry walked closer as he remembered.

_Harry closed the door to the study behind him and leaned back against it, trying to overcome the feeling of unease that had settled over him. He had gone looking for Ginny to apologize. Ginny had snapped him out of his funk when he was worried about being possessed by Voldemort earlier, but at the time he had been too relieved to consider the full ramifications of just what he had done by forgetting. After those feelings had passed, he had felt like a huge weight had been lifted and was able to see clearly again. What he saw left him feeling horribly guilty once more._

_It had only been one day that he had suspected something was wrong, only one day spent suspecting he may have been possessed, and it had left him feeling terribly angry, guilty, and afraid. Ginny had known she was being possessed by Tom Riddle and had to live with it for months. He had been afraid and guilt-ridden when he suspected that he had something to do with Arthur Weasley's attack, even with the redemption of having alerted the Order in time to save his life. Yet Ginny, an eleven-year-old Ginny no less, had suspected at first and later known she was being possessed and was responsible for the petrification of other students. She, just a girl then, had to live like that for months, without any hope of redemption. And Harry, having gone into the Chamber and faced the monster that had taken her himself, had somehow forgotten. _

_Harry was pretty sure he hadn't ever felt so guilty in his life as he did when he realized that. So, he had searched the dreary rooms of Grimmauld Place until he found her in the study connected to the master bedroom. He had found her sitting at the grand piano running her fingers over the keys and given her the most sincere apology he had ever given anyone. Ginny had nodded, acknowledged he was having a particularly bad year and thanked him for the apology before turning back to the piano, effectively dismissing him. _

_That was how he found himself standing in the hall, leaning against the door he just exited and wondering how he could feel even worse now than before he had apologized. The other Weasleys had warned him before he went searching for her to beware of her bat-bogey hex, claiming that Ginny was capable of throwing it wandlessly when she was truly angry. If he was being completely honest, Harry had to admit he was actually a little afraid of it. Ginny hadn't been angry though, surprisingly enough. She had been perfectly calm. _

_Harry frowned to himself. Maybe calm wasn't the correct description? Ginny had been… stoic. That's why he felt so unsettled. Ginny wasn't stoic. She always let you know what she felt, one way or another. She didn't do things by halves. Everyone else had tiptoed around him, placating him, but Ginny had told him he was being an idiot to his face and without any remorse. He had seen her be compassionate too, seeking out and aiding those others ignored, like Luna and Neville. She could fly off the handle, forgive unconditionally, light up a room with merriment, or any number of other things, but since he'd actually gotten to know her, she had never failed to express her feelings. _

_Ginny hadn't done that just now. She hadn't done anything at all. She hadn't accepted or rejected his apology; she had merely acknowledged it. That was what was so wrong about this. He had never seen Ginny so unresponsive, and it unsettled him more than if he had had his own bogies attacking him. He was just debating whether or not he should go back in and try again when he heard the piano being played on the other side of the door. He wasn't aware Ginny could play the piano. That fact, teamed with her lack of response made him inexplicably angry. _Why couldn't she just be honest with him?

"_Come on, Red," Harry heard his godfather say as the piano cut off. "You know that's not fair."_ Thank you, Sirius! _Guilt and indignation had been fighting with one another inside him, but the anger had been winning._

"_He forgot, Sirius!" Ginny's angry voice came through the cracked door clearly. She continued more quietly, but just as fiercely, "He almost died saving me from that bloody chamber, and he forgot that it was because Tom possessed me for nearly a year!?" Harry felt his indignation deflate, punctured as it was by the guilt that statement brought on._

"_I know. I remember how affected you were when we first met, even months later," _Months? But they didn't meet until last year_, Harry thought, confused, but Sirius continued, distracting him from that thought, "and I know you're hurt, but you and I both know Harry, and he's definitely kicking himself now."_

"_I know," Ginny replied, much more subdued. He heard her expel a large breath, "I didn't want to make him feel worse, but I couldn't lie and say it was okay." She let out a muffled sound of frustration before continuing, "I'm not even angry with him, not really. I'm more angry with myself. You've heard the stories. You know what I was like when I was little. I was always enthralled by the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, dreamed of marrying him like some fairytale princess," Harry winced, decidedly uncomfortable being thought of that way, but also at the bitter chuckle she let out, "but that died a long time ago." Harry let out a sigh in relief and relaxed, but her next statement made him tense again. "Tom made sure of it. He was quite adept at pointing out all the ways I could never measure up, particularly once he had started using me, damaged goods he'd sa-"_

"_Gin-"_

"_Save it, Sirius." Ginny snapped. "Don't get soft on me. I don't want to hear your gentle encouragement any more than you want to hear mine."_

"_Alright, alright. You got it, Red," Sirius replied placatingly. "No bat-bogey necessary," he added cheekily, and Harry could envision the wink he undoubtedly sent her way._

_Ginny laughed, but there was no laughter in her voice when she continued, "He wasn't wrong, even I could see it. The Boy-Who-Lived nonsense? I didn't know Harry. I came to, after that whole fiasco, see him as just Harry. You know that, but the damage had already been done. I was always going to be that little girl to him..." She trailed off, bitterly._

"_He doesn't see you that way anymore," Sirius replied._

"_Maybe not quite like that, but he'll never see me the way he sees Ron or Hermione," she said reasonably. Harry felt guilty again, this time because he realized she was right. While he didn't see her as the besotted fangirl she once was, he did still see her as just Ron's little sister, someone always there, but on the periphery. "I'm just disappointed in myself, because, for all I had thought that I had let any expectations go in regards to him, I was wrong. While I didn't expect him to notice me or to be one of them, I always expected that even if we never talked about it, at least he understood."_

"_Understood what exactly?"_

"_He was the only one who had been in the Chamber, who had seen, who could possibly understand just how much Tom had taken from me," she said quietly. Harry thought back to finding her face down in the chamber, her body cold, and so close to death that he had thought for a moment that he had been too late. He shivered, recalling it had been the most terrifying moment of his life. There was a pause, during which time she must have bolstered herself because she continued in a stronger tone, "but clearly I was wrong, so it's time to let that go. All of it." _

_Harry heard her begin to play again. It was a pretty melody, but there was a sadness there as if it were saying goodbye. It made something inside Harry's chest ache unexpectedly._

_He heard her ask Sirius, "Wanna help me expel some demons? This is what I was working on." Sirius released a bark of laughter just before a guitar joined in. Ginny hummed in approval and said something about the old days? _What old days?_ Harry thought confused, but again he was derailed from thoughts of Sirius and Ginny's relationship when he heard Sirius let out a low whistle._

"_Don't look at me like that. If you don't like what I was writing, then maybe you shouldn't have barged in and interrupted," Ginny said testily, but lacking any real bite. For a moment, all Harry heard was silence, until Ginny broke the moment with a huff. "It's not really about him; it's about me saying goodbye to my former self that fancied herself a princess and had any expectations of the white knight who saved her, even just those of understanding," she said defensively._

"_Mmhmm," Sirius hummed in reply, but even Harry could hear the doubt in it._

"_It's- I-," Ginny stuttered, before releasing a heavy sigh and composing herself. Harry assumed that's what she was doing anyway, because when she started again it was a coherent explanation, even if it was disquieting. "There was a moment, Sirius, just a moment, where I literally watched comprehension dawn in his eyes. He really, truly, forgot until I smacked him in the face with it. And at that moment, I was her again. Little Ginny Weasley, a silly little girl with a silly little book," Harry shivered, the memory of how Riddle had said those exact words with such derision ringing in his head, "who was so far beyond notice that no one- not her roommates nor her teachers, not even her four older brothers- noticed when she went missing for hours at a time or returned covered in blood or filth, even when the school was on high alert." _

_Harry, already having felt the cold tendrils of guilt clawing at him when she had started, now thought he may literally become sick with it by the time she had finished. How was it that they all had missed it? How was it that she had forgiven any of them? How could he have forgotten? His heart nearly broke however when he heard what was undeniably Ginny sniffling. It didn't sound like she was actually crying, but she was still clearly struggling to contain her emotions. The sick feeling intensified._

"_Come here, Gin," Sirius said softly, and then Harry heard shuffling and soft murmurs. Harry wondered briefly how he could have missed how close the two are. _Then again_, a voice in his head reminded him, _there's a lot you didn't notice about Ginny Weasley.

"_I'm not her, Sirius. I haven't been for a really long time. I can't become her again. I won't let anyone reduce me to that. Not even for a moment." _

"_I understand. I do. You need to do what's best for you," Then Sirius said gravely, "Just don't give up on him completely, okay? He needs all of us, including you, whether you realize it or not."_

"_I would never abandon him, Sirius," she replied so genuinely that it sounded like a vow. "I just, I need some time, I think." _

"_That's fine, beautiful. I'll give you some privacy. Come find me if you want to talk."_

_She hummed in the affirmative and the piano started up again. Unfortunately, it masked the sound of Sirius's footsteps and Harry barely had time to step back against the wall and out of sight before the door opened._

_When Sirius saw him, he threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure Ginny hadn't seen anything, before shutting the door quietly. He then motioned for Harry to follow him further down the hall where they couldn't be heard. They came to a stop at the far end of the hall where Sirius adopted a casual position leaning against the wall opposite Harry. His godfather's stance and gaze appeared nonchalant, but Harry could sense the reproach hidden beneath the facade. _

_After a moment of awkward silence, Harry couldn't take it anymore and said what they were both thinking. "I haven't done right by her, have I?"_

_Sirius continued to eye him dispassionately. "No, you haven't. After her first year, she really could have used a friend, but none of you bothered."_

"_We messed up her first year, but were there for her after that," Harry defended. _

_Sirius raised his eyebrows, "Really? Because the way I heard it, the second the train pulled away her dear brother sent her off on her own."_

"_What?"_

"_Now, I've only heard one side of the story, so I could be wrong. But apparently you needed to have a private conversation with your two best friends and Ron promptly told his sister to piss off." Harry eyed him in disbelief. He'd remember if Ron told Ginny to piss off. "Fine, I think it was actually, 'Go away, Ginny.' You and Hermione didn't protest and Ginny wandered the train for a while on her own until the Dementors made an appearance."_

_Harry thought back. Though he didn't remember the exact circumstances, he did remember being overwhelmed by thoughts that the "mass-murderer Sirius Black" was after him specifically and he wanted to discuss it with his friends immediately. Focusing, he vaguely remembered Ginny boarding the train with them, a small altercation with Ron, and then she was gone and he was in the compartment with just Ron, Hermione, and a sleeping Lupin._

_His expression must have tipped off Sirius to the validity of his claim because the older man nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. Now, you were only thirteen yourself and I'm sure having a madman after you was a bit distracting, so let's set that aside and call your inconsideration a youthful indiscretion. You're fifteen now though and it seems you haven't gotten much better."_

"_Hey! Ginny and I are friends now. She's in the D.A. with us." Harry defended himself, starting to feel abused by the continued line of questioning._

"_Okay. Well, tell me then, did you get her anything for Christmas?"_

"_A Honeyduke's Gift Set of chocolates," Harry responded proudly, happy to have a positive answer._

_Sirius nodded. "And how many people did you give that particular gift?"_

_Harry frowned, "Well, not that many. Just my dorm mates really, as well as Bill and Charlie."_

"_In other words, you buy personalized gifts for those you are closest to, and the gift boxes for the people you thought you should buy for, but don't know well enough to know what to get them or at least to take the time to search for specifically." _

"_I guess," he said reluctantly, before he added, "but it's different with Ginny because she gives chocolates to everyone for Christmas too."_

"_Ah, but she makes those herself and does all the packaging, so each one is different and personalized."_

_That brought Harry up short. _She really made the chocolate herself? _He was impressed. While he had known she did all the packaging for each person specifically, he had always kind of assumed Mrs. Weasley actually made the candy, because it was really good._

"_I didn't know that," he said quietly._

"_Look, I'm not trying to give you a hard time to make you feel bad. I just want you to actually be aware of it. Truthfully, I think you've done both yourself and her a disservice by not trying to be a better friend to her. She'll surprise you if you give her a chance."_

"_Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully, but even he could hear the depressing quality to his voice. He really was feeling awful about it now that he was looking back with some perspective. _

"_Don't worry too much pup. Ginny, she's a sweet girl. She doesn't expect anything from you. She'll just be happy you got her something." _

_Feeling somewhat relieved, Harry made his way back to his and Ron's room. He sat down on his bed, trying to figure out all that he had been feeling. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of emotion for him, even just in regard to Ginny. The guilt he felt at having forgotten, the relief when she confirmed he hadn't been possessed, the anger at her lack of transparency, the fear that she had given up on him, the relief when he realized she hadn't. It was a lot to think about. Everything that had happened between them seemed so important in a way Harry would never have anticipated. _

_He reviewed the conversation he had overheard again in his mind and was startled to realize why it had all affected him so much. Without his realization, Ginny had been a cornerstone in his camp. She was always there, quietly backing him, unwavering, but unnoticed and, apparently, unappreciated. _

_Even more startling, he realized she had never asked for anything from him- not explanations, nor attention, nor gratitude. In the early days, she had been distracted by him to the point of clumsiness, endless blushing, and giggling muteness, but she had stood up for him in Flourish and Blotts none-the-less. She had never expressed her interest to him in a way that asked him to return it; it had been her brothers who had endlessly brought up her crush to embarrass her. She had sent him that singing valentine second year, but then again, she hadn't signed it or tried to take credit; it had been Draco Malfoy who had called her out. Even in his third year, when she gave him that shrill singing card, it hadn't been romantic; it had been a song that he had heard Mrs. Weasley singing many times over the summer, a song Ron claimed she had sung to all her children to comfort them when they were younger. As he thought back, he could come up with a dozen similar instances in which Ginny had done something to support him without his conscious realization of it. _

_These realizations made him feel somehow both better and worse. He hadn't realized how much he had depended on that quiet support. It was gratifying to know that he had her loyalty and that she wouldn't abandon him, no matter how self-centered he had been. It was awful to realize just how much of a prat he had been not to have noticed these things earlier. He knew something had been broken between them today, even if he hadn't been aware of its existence before tonight, but there was hope yet that he could fix things. He had taken her for granted before, but he wouldn't do it again. The lingering guilt felt like a living thing, but it helped strengthen his resolve; Ginny was someone he could trust and he would do better by her moving forward. _

As Harry came back to the present, he was met with an overwhelming sense of defeat and guilt. After the earlier revelation that Ginny was already at direct risk from Voldemort, Harry's anger had fled entirely. How could he have forgotten the significance of the Chamber and Ginny's connection to Tom Riddle _again? _These feelings were only compounded by the realization that- even after all that he had learned from overhearing her conversation with Sirius- he still hadn't made much of an effort to change his ways. He had certainly become closer with Ginny as the year progressed, but he was so busy dealing with first Cho, then Umbridge, the D.A., the occlumency lessons with Snape, O.W.L.'s and a slew of other things, that she had completely been pushed from his mind. Frowning to himself, he realized that she had probably been dealing with quite a bit herself, yet she still found time to help him whenever he needed it.

He groaned internally and chastised himself. Was he always going to be such a selfish berk when it came to Ginny Weasley? Was it any wonder she was so upset to learn they had been bound when all Harry ever seemed to do was let her down? Sure, he had saved her life when it was on the line, but if he had actually been her friend to begin with, she wouldn't have been in the position to need saving.

A bang against the wall and Ron's shout drew him closer to the room.

"-careful! Do you have any idea what you could have just done to _all_ of us if you had broken that!?"

"Relax, brother. It has an unbreakable charm on it. Sirius wouldn't have let any damage come to it. Besides, the magic has already left it and seeped into us to bind us into the betrothal; it's nothing but a vial of blood now," she said patronizingly as if he was a small child.

"How do you know all that?" Ron replied defensively. "You weren't there after Mom and Dad gave us the book."

"I _know_ because I caught him researching it." Harry heard her pacing furiously. "I _told_ him how wrong it was to do that to Harry. And I _thought _he had agreed to let it go. Poor Harry has _never_ had the love he deserved." He heard Ron make a sound to interrupt, but Ginny cut him off. "Us excluded, and you know it's not the same thing anyway. He's never had his own people to love. He's always had to sacrifice love for safety with the Dursleys, and Sirius has forced him to do it again, except this time he won't age out of it. He'll be stuck with me for the rest of his life."

"Well, he listened to you a bit, didn't he? You've always loved Harry - don't try and say you don't anymore because I won't believe you."

"That's not the same thing and you know it," she said dismissively. Harry didn't even have time to contemplate what that meant before she continued, her voice laced with frustration, "I'm just- I'm so angry, Ron. So, _so _angry with Sirius. Part of me loves him for trusting me with him. Harry- he was the only thing in the world that kept Sirius going most days, so I know how hard this was. But I can't squash the part that hates him for it too. I want to hug him and hex him simultaneously, but he's not here for me to yell at! And I miss him and don't know what to do about any of it!" Her voice rose until it crescendoed desperately. As Harry recognized the depth of Ginny's pain and confusion, Neville's earlier words came back to him.

"Hey, Ginny, calm down. I mean, you and Harry are bound and will probably have to marry at some point, but at least it's Harry, right? Everything will work out in the end, yeah?" Ron weakly tried to reassure his sister, sounding slightly desperate to Harry's ears.

She let out a humorless chuckle. "No, Ron. It won't. All I've ever wanted was to be really, truly loved. The way Mom and Dad love each other. Even when I was younger and I wanted to marry the Boy-Who-Lived, I just thought it was so sad. Here I was with six brothers and two parents, while this little boy who saved the wizarding world had no one. It wasn't fair, and I wanted to be his best friend, his family, his comfort. But… I'll never get a chance to find that now, and even though I love Harry, it won't be the same. Neither of us will have that experience - the excitement of finding someone to fall in love together with."

"Ginny," Ron started, sounding uncomfortable, "Harry wouldn't… Harry will-"

"Oh, I'm sure Harry will always be perfectly loyal. He'll help carry my trunk, escort me to Hogsmeade and buy me pretty things," she said in a false breathy voice, before dropping back to her normal pitch. She continued sardonically, "Hell, I'm sure Sirius left him a big, beautiful Black family ring as a special 'fuck you' to Walburga Black that he'll present it to me as a proper betrothed should, and I'm sure all the girls at Hogwarts will fawn over it and tell me just how lucky I am. But I won't be, because none of it will ever be _real_. It will always be out of duty. Can you, for a moment, imagine how that feels, Ron? To have what appears to be what you've always wanted, but know it's nothing more than an illusion?" By the end, her voice had lost all its cynicism and was simply laden with sadness.

Harry was feeling overwhelmed at this point, and cursing himself for eavesdropping once again. He had known no good could come from it, but he just couldn't resist all that he learned about Ginny in these unguarded moments. Right now though, with his feelings on the subject already a knotted mess and clouded by his own grief, he couldn't take hearing any more of Ginny's confusion and pain and decided it would be best that he leave.

Harry pulled the note Sirius had left him out of his pocket as he walked down the stairs. Originally, he had intended to head to his and Ron's room, but he paused as he passed the master bedroom when he heard Buckbeak squawk from inside. Somehow, knowing that Sirius had spent so much time with the creature while they were both fugitives relegated to this house, reading Sirius's final message to him in the company of the hippogriff seemed appropriate and he entered the room.

Harry bowed to Buckbeak as was customary and received a bow in return quickly. _He must be lonely_, he thought to himself guiltily. _I should spend some time with him_. An indeterminate amount of time had passed before Harry realized he was lavishing the hippogriff with attention more out of procrastination than compassion and gave the creature one last pat on the beak before moving away. He paced for a time before reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor - how many times had he faced Voldemort now? - and delaying wouldn't change it. Even with the reminder to himself, it was with shaking hands that he opened the envelope and pulled the parchment out. Haphazardly tossing aside the envelope, he began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_Before I get into the purpose of this letter, I need to offer you an apology. _

_In her first letter home after the break, the lovely Miss Weasley sent her mother a letter that contained a postscript concerning my behavior. I'd paraphrase, but I'm quite fond of Red's wording: "Can you please tell Snuffles that I'm very disappointed in him? We were all very upset that he wasn't able to join us for the trip to King's Cross, but the train station is no safe place for a dog. His frustration was no excuse for his bad behavior, especially for snapping at Harry the way he did. He actually did hurt him, even if there won't be a scar. I expect a full apology- tail tucked between his legs and all- immediately the next time we see him, or he can expect his nose to hurt for a while. Also, give him a hug for me to let him know I'm not_ too _mad and that I miss him."_

_Given that you're reading this letter (and seeing how I update it regularly), I'm betting my current circumstances wouldn't allow our girl to follow through on her threat, but she was correct that you deserved an apology from me. Being cooped up in this house feels like its own prison sentence, and it's driving me a bit mad honestly, but that's no excuse; I shouldn't have said what I did. It was wrong of me to indicate that you are in any way less than James. While he may have been an irresponsible arse at fifteen, I have no doubt that if your father were here now, he would have agreed with you. Your mother... she was something else. Even at fifteen, she would have agreed with you and sent me to my room with my tail tucked between my legs for even thinking of it. You truly are the best of them both. Don't ever doubt it, not even when I'm acting like a reckless prick. I don't even need you to forgive me, so long as you remember that._

_Back to the matter at hand… The simple fact is that if you are reading this, I'm no longer around, and the betrothal ritual Arthur and I performed has been completed. I won't bother going into the details and justifying it, because you'll hear that from Molly and Arthur (and if for some reason all three of us are gone, then I'm sure you and Gin can piece it together on your own.) So let's just get into why it's an issue. _

_I know it must seem unfair to you, and the truth is that in a lot of ways it is, but that's just the way life is sometimes. Before you go blaming yourself like a self-centered git (sorry, kid, but you _do_ do that), it's not just about you. In fact, there are many more reasons to do this for Gin than there are to do it for you, though you can certainly benefit from it as well. I do regret that I'm stealing your choices, but I cannot say I'm truly sorry. I did what I believe is necessary to protect you both. _

_In the interest of honesty, I'll admit I wouldn't have suggested it with her, or anyone else for that matter, if the circumstances weren't so dire for both of you. If things had to be this way though, then I'm glad it's the two of you; there is no one I'd rather entrust either of you to more than the other. I love you, Harry. You were the closest thing to a son I had ever intended on having and you gave me a reason to carry on when it would have been much simpler to give up, and I love Gin too. She was like the daughter I never dreamed of having. She's so much more than I can adequately describe to you here, but I'll do my best, because I need to know that I've done everything I can to make sure she is taken care of. _

_You see, if there's one thing I've noticed around here that actually surprised me, it was that Gin-girl is often pushed aside. That's not to say that no one cares or that she is unloved- she's not. She's not like you or me, in that her family does love and care for her very much, but what everyone seems to forget is that she is an _actual_ person with a lot to offer and not just the youngest Weasley. Some forget about her, others underestimate how much she has to offer, and her family, in particular, seems to think she needs to be protected. You fall into all three categories. I know saying this won't alleviate your inevitable guilt, but my aim is not to make you feel bad. After you read this, my hope is simply that you'll think it through and do better moving forward._

_I will admit that you must have wised up this year, because when the twins arrived they had an interesting story to tell about how Gin had approached them for help creating an opportunity for you to reach me. _

_While I'm glad, there are countless other times she knew something that you didn't that could've helped you too. She's smart. Did you know that she's in the top five of her year? Probably not. She's also compassionate. I know for a fact she goes out of her way to connect with any outsider she comes across. She's selfless, too. After your second year, she got over her crush but still took to avoiding you simply because she knew she made you uncomfortable. I can't even begin to tell you how sly she is. That I'll leave you to discover on your own. (Be warned: she has thoroughly embarrassed plenty of students older than you who have offended her, and she won't hesitate to knock you on your arse if you aren't careful.) _

_In case you need more proof… here comes the part where I betray confidences in death that I never would have in life. The day I met Gin, she was a distraught twelve-year-old wandering the grounds of Hogwarts alone who happened to come across a sickly stray dog that she refused to let suffer. The truth of the matter is that she found and unknowingly saved me. She noticed my illness, named me Snuffles, fed me, kept me company, and even gave me her best cloak to keep warm. I owe her a great deal for the hope she gave me that day and all the others afterward that she came back. However, she also confided in the lonely stray all about her life, her trauma, and her fears. She would soothe herself by brushing my fur with her fingers and releasing all the pent up words that she claimed would die in her throat in the presence of others. _

_Based on the things she shared Harry, I can't begin to tell you how lucky we are that she is as strong as she is and that she cared for you. With the exception of the first time, at the Halloween feast, the basilisk was meant to go after you. If she wasn't an exceptional witch or didn't care so much or so deeply, she never would have had the strength to fight Riddle's possession enough to prevent the beast from going after you directly for the kill. It wasn't by chance that you and the others didn't die, Harry. That was all due to Gin's strength. _

_Really, she's a brilliant witch, magically and otherwise, and despite everything, she has always been unswervingly loyal to you. I know I've gone on and on, but I need to make sure that there will be at least one person left who recognizes it when I can't be there anymore. _

_So, please - even if I haven't managed to convince you with my rambling - be a better friend to her. I have no doubt you'll quickly come to realize all that you've been missing. You can start by asking her to show you my secret stash, where you'll find a special book I've left behind for you, where you will find far more than I could ever hope to tell you in a single letter._

_Never forget, Harry, that you are loved even in death. We'll be waiting for you, hopefully many years down the road after you've lived a long and happy life._

_Love Always,_

_Sirius_

Harry processed all this information feeling slightly as if he'd been stunned. He tried to do what Sirius had asked and focus on reframing his view of Ginny instead of wallowing in self-loathing. Last Christmas he realized he had underestimated her support, but he just hadn't known until now by how much. Wracking his brain, he tried to think of any occasion that Ginny had offered him assistance in which he had refused it. He couldn't come up with a single instance. She seemed to have an instinct for when he truly needed something and if he would be receptive enough to accept it from her.

Then he tried to think of if he had ever done the same for her and cringed when he realized he couldn't think of any. Maybe it could be said that it was because she was a witch and therefore more emotionally intelligent than he was as a bloke, but it still didn't excuse his ignorance of her. Now, knowing she had done so much more for him than he thought (and suddenly he doubted this was the extent of it), he felt like banging his head against the wall.

Ginny had been indignant while claiming Harry was stuck with her, but, as far as he could tell, it was the other way around. Ginny- caring, loyal, strong Ginny- was stuck with him, an insensitive prat who had never given her the credit she was due. Sirius had tried to tell him, but he hadn't learned a damn thing.

_But Sirius knew that, yet he loved you anyway_, a voice whispered in his head. It was soft, feminine, and comforting.

Harry couldn't recall anyone ever saying those words to him directly, by spoken word or in writing. The unconditional love he felt from Sirius, even from beyond this life, shattered the numbness he had held onto to ward off the grief. Finally succumbing, Harry sunk into himself and cried as the waves of pain washed over him.


	6. Chapter 5

Ginny felt sick. It was now after midnight and she hadn't had anything to eat since the train ride home, but her body simply couldn't find any enthusiasm for food; the thought of it made her stomach turn. She knew from experience however that she would get no respite from the unwell feeling until she had forced something down, and so she began nibbling on some biscuits. Despite the fact that her mother had made them and she was certain they must taste quite good, all her mouth registered was the taste and texture of cardboard as she chewed. They settled uncomfortably in her stomach in a lump that was hardly preferable to the pain before she had eaten. One was all she managed before she truly thought she might vomit. Instead, she dully used her wand to reheat the tea in her cup, hating the reason she was able to do so, and staring at the still full cup sitting on the opposite side of the table in front of an empty chair that would not be filled.

She sighed and had to force back a sob at the thought.

Ginny had first come down to the kitchen twenty minutes ago after sleeping for only an hour before being woken by a nightmare. She hadn't been surprised; nightmares were a common enough occurrence for her, especially here in Grimmauld Place. _Perhaps it's all the snakes_, she thought discomfited. After all, they were almost always about the Chamber and Tom Riddle when she was here. Regardless of the reason, she proceeded to do what she had always done when this happened and headed for the kitchen to make some tea. The clock struck midnight as she finished preparing two cups of tea on autopilot and sat down without a thought to wait for her late-night companion to arrive. Even though she sometimes arrived first, experience had shown that he eventually would join her. She didn't know if he could hear the ringing of that horrid clock from the drawing room ringing in his room as well, but it never failed that midnight saw Sirius heading to the kitchen for some late-night comfort.

It was one minute and forty-three seconds after midnight and three sips of tea before Ginny had finally woken up enough to remember that Sirius wouldn't be joining her. He would never again sit at the table with her, keeping his demons at bay long enough to resist the alcohol so that he could stay sober and be her friend. He used to sit and sip tea (that she knew he wasn't interested in, but that she was grateful he partook in) and they would talk until she had reached a level of calm that would allow her to fall back asleep. Those late-night talks were gone now. _Sirius_ was gone now_._ And she didn't know how to handle it.

She quickly exited the kitchen and fled once again to the sanctuary that was his room. The room she shared with Hermione wasn't her least favorite room in the house - that particular honor went to the drawing room - but she had never liked it. She supposed that now she could claim Sirius's room for own - it was her house, after all, and she was for all intents and purposes an adult - but she liked thinking of it as his.

The room was just as she had left it earlier after her conversation with Ron. Their talk had been more candid than any other they had had in years. In varying degrees of detail, they had talked about everything to do with this damned betrothal- the betrayal, the guilt, the feeling of loss for her and indignation for Harry. He was the one who explained the notes they found in the Black family journal and how the annotations indicated that the betrothal had been done more for her sake than Harry's. That knowledge certainly hadn't helped with the guilt. It was probably what had led to the change in her nightmare tonight.

_It had started the same as it always did when she was here: in the Chamber facing Tom Riddle. She had woken up to find herself on the floor of the Chamber, barely strong enough to keep her eyes open, pain radiating in every fiber of her being, as Tom began to materialize in front of her. He had been shadowy, like a mirage, as he informed her of what he had done to her, what she had done under his direction, and what he intended to do to Harry once his resurrection had been completed and she had become the memory instead of him. _

In reality, she had lost consciousness at that point as his silhouette came into sharper relief and didn't wake again until Harry had already destroyed the diary and Tom was gone, but the nightmare always continued from Tom's point of view. When she first started having it, she refused to believe it had been anything other than just her mind trying to fill in the gaps. As more of these nightmares came, however, she realized they were memories Tom had made when using her essence that she had gained when her magic had been returned to her upon the destruction of the diary.

_At first, the dream continued as usual, with Harry arriving and rushing to her side while Tom watched from the shadows. She always felt terribly guilty seeing his distress, but she could remember that Tom had found it ironic. How could he be so visibly concerned as she was dying, yet not have any time for her when she was alive? Dying _changed_ things, he knew - the insignificant suddenly become precious while the great and powerful suddenly become weak - which is why he never intended to die; he had never been insignificant and he would never allow himself to be so weak. Ginny knew enough about him to know that there would have been no limit to the unspeakable things he would be willing to do in his quest for immortality, and she fervently hoped he had not been successful. _

_Harry was still begging Ginny to wake and shaking her now. She knew this was the moment that Tom would step forward and say, "She won't wake." Except, that's not what happened. Instead, she watched as her eleven-year-old self shoot up and shot "Incarcerous" at Harry, binding him. She felt Tom smile before her perspective changed._

_Now she was looking at Tom again, but he was no longer Tom Riddle. Voldemort as he was now, red-eyed and snakelike, stood where Tom had been. When she looked at Harry bound in front of her, it was his fifteen-year-old self she saw and she could already tell that she was in her fourteen-year-old body as well from the size of her hands. _

_She didn't understand. This had never happened and she would never allow it to happen. Voldemort responded to her thoughts, "You never would have thought you'd open the Chamber of Secrets, yet you did. You almost killed Harry once before and now you'll help me do it again."_

_She wanted to deny it, to scream that she would never allow it to happen, but Harry was looking at her with hatred and betrayal, and the words died in her throat. His tone was cold when he said, "It's all your fault, you know. If you had never written in that diary, if you had just listened to the warnings your father had given you all your life, this never would have happened."_

_She had to do something, she thought wildly, but she felt as if she'd been petrified and Voldemort smiled at her. "Thank you, Ginevra, for your help. It was exactly what I needed." Her voice finally came back in the form of a scream when his red eyes glowed brighter and he sent a green light directly at the still bound and defenseless Harry with a simple, "Avada Kedavra"._

Even though she felt better now than after she had first woken, the sick panic she had felt watching the killing curse strike Harry in the chest lingered, and she knew sleep would be impossible. Forgoing the bed, she headed back toward the desk using her wand to light a single candle. She hadn't finished going through the box of things Sirius had left behind earlier - she had been distracted by the letters and will first and then later by Ron, who had guilted her into heading downstairs to talk to Hermione after their chat - and she didn't want to risk the light tipping anyone off that she was there. Now that she was alone and not likely to be interrupted, she sat and intended to take a good look through the magically expanded box.

It should have been easy. The box was sitting there, already unlocked and open, and would provide her with something to think about other than her nightmare or the mess that was her life now. All she had to do was lean forward and begin, but she didn't want to. These were the most important bits of Sirius's life and the last pieces that would shape her memory of him. It felt like hammering the final nail into his coffin and she hesitated, her gut churning.

She broke out of her gloominess when her back started to hurt. For a moment, she wondered how long she could have been sitting there and if her emotional upheaval had her losing time, but then she remembered what Sirius had told her when she asked why he did all his writing in the study instead of his room. He claimed his mother must have cursed his desk chair because it always hurt like hell when he did work there. She had never believed him and privately thought he was just getting old, but it appeared she had been wrong. Swallowing down her apprehension, she picked up the magical box and made her way to the bed.

The first thing she found was a stack of all the letters she had written to him. Considering they had only taken to writing to each other this year, it was a decent size, but it was still smaller than she would have liked, thanks to Umbridge monitoring their mail. Next was a stack of letters from Harry if the handwriting on the outside was anything to go by. She didn't open any to check though, not wanting to violate their privacy.

When she placed his stack beside her own, she was surprised and saddened to see that it was slightly smaller than hers, indicating they clearly hadn't written all that much given his correspondence with Sirius spanned a year longer than hers had. She couldn't quite understand why that would be when it was clear they loved each other very much. Then again, Harry was never particularly verbose even in the flesh, let alone much of a writer. _Boys_, she thought in exasperation.

Moving on, she found a box that was a tight enough fit that she could only use her fingertips when pulling it out. It had her name on it. The trepidation she had felt earlier came roaring back to life. He'd left her actual things. When she had first found the note earlier after learning of the betrothal, she had already been in a state of shock and she had ripped into the letter without thought, desperate to understand why he had done this to her. Now though, her body flooded with nerves. She peeked back into his box of things, wondering if she could keep exploring and procrastinate going through whatever was in the box with her name on it, but saw the next item was another box like the one Sirius had left her, except it was for Harry. Knowing she certainly couldn't go through his box, she turned back to her own. With shaking hands, she opened it.

Her eyes promptly filled with tears as she reached out and stroked the fabric before her in disbelief.

The first thing inside, cleaned and folded neatly, was the cloak she had given him her second year. _How had he managed to keep it while on the run? _She almost didn't believe it, but she could see where the worn fabric had been patched in places and recognized her mother's stitching, as well as the pattern, immediately. Touched, she gently removed it before carrying on.

Directly beneath the cloak was a surprise. It was an awkwardly shaped, medium size wrapped package. When she reached out and took it, whatever was inside gave and the paper crinkled, indicating it was soft. There was a note written on the paper itself saying, "_In case you ever need someone to talk to at night._" She smiled wistfully, tearing up again when she saw pulled back the paper to reveal a stuffed animal in the form of a shaggy, black dog. There was even a dog-tag engraved with the name "Snuffles". She laughed at her own weepiness and muttered without heat, "Damn it, Sirius. Only you could make me cry this much."

She set both her box and the larger one that belonged to Sirius aside and cuddled with her new friend Snuffles, leaning back into the pillows and pulling the knitted blanket at the foot of the bed over herself. It wasn't anywhere near as soothing or warm as snuggling with Snuffles on the bank of the Black Lake had been nor as comforting as talking to Sirius had been, but she felt better than she had before as she ran her fingers through the fur. She wondered if he had had it custom made because the length of the fur was disproportionate to the size of the animal, because it was designed perfectly for Ginny to perform the familiar action with. Without realizing it, she started to drift.

The click of the door and a quick flash of light woke her. She hadn't meant to fall asleep at all and the sense of disorientation only added to the shock. Instinctively, she grabbed her wand and launched upright, aiming it at the door. It was dark in the room with the door shut - the lone candle she lit earlier must have burned out - but she _knew_ she had seen a flash of light before then. Her eyes searched the darkness, finding no shapes that didn't belong, but she _felt_ a presence. Certain there was someone there she said with quiet control, "You have five seconds before I start flinging hexes at random. Show yourself."

A figure appeared. She didn't need to see clearly to know who it was. Honestly, she really shouldn't have been surprised when Harry appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She relaxed her wand and placed a hand to her chest over her rapidly beating heart.

"Merlin, Harry. You scared the shit out of me."

There was a brief pause before he lit his wand and she could see his face. He looked as tired as she had earlier. "Sorry," he said, awkwardly shuffling his feet and looking anywhere but at her. "I didn't realize you'd be here." He shrugged and lifted the hand not holding the wand as if to ruffle his hair, but the silver fabric of his father's invisibility cloak dragged awkwardly across his body as he did so; he paused and draped it over his shoulder and continued his original plan to run his now free hand through his hair. Ginny knew it was a nervous habit of his, and it seemed to be something that he had been doing frequently tonight if its current mussed state was any indication.

"No, it's okay," she said with a wave of her hand, feeling bad that he was clearly so uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to, but I must have fallen asleep. You just startled me is all."

"Right."

She eyed him for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was clearly very late - early? - and she was certain neither of them was in any state to have a serious talk. _We're not in the habit of having serious conversations in general, let alone talking about us._ She looked down and traced the patterns on the comforter.

_This is getting us nowhere_, she thought to herself after entirely too much silence. It truly hadn't been that long at all, but now that the adrenaline from waking up the way she had was fading, she was finding herself leaning toward exhaustion again. _Might as well get this over with._

"What brings you here this time of night, Harry?"

He shot her a glance, but quickly looked away, before mumbling, "Couldn't sleep." After a moment, he cleared his throat and said more clearly, "What about you? You said you didn't mean to fall asleep here."

"Couldn't sleep," she said, neglecting to mention the nightmare that had made sure of it and continued to cover up the truth further by sending him a tired, but cheeky grin.

He cracked a smile for her, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Sighing, she decided to offer him some honesty. Really, if anyone deserved it from her at this point, it was him. "I couldn't sleep again. I've never really been able to sleep here. Last summer I thought it was because Tom had just returned. But the nightmares keep coming, so…" She trailed off and shrugged. She hadn't meant to be so transparent with him. She continued to cover up her nerves, "Maybe it's the snake motif. I don't know." _Stop being a coward, _she scolded herself. _I thought you were trying to be honest with him_. "So, I went down to the kitchen, as usual, made tea and sat down to wait. The tea had gone cold by the time I realized I was waiting for Sirius… I just missed him, I guess. I thought I'd feel closer to him in here. Safer maybe." She let out a laugh, "I never really imagined that pictures of scantily clad muggle girls could be calming, but here I am." She laughed again. She would forever blame spending so many years in the company of Fred and George for her next comment. A sly grin crossed her face and she said unthinkingly, "Though I imagine they're not quite so calming for you."

She was gratified when she saw his posture relax and some of the tension release from his shoulders. He even rolled his eyes at her before his lips quirked into a lopsided grin that was much more genuine. "Ha-ha, Gin. You're hilarious."

She narrowed her eyes at him at that. "Since when do you call me 'Gin'?"

"Oh." He looked down again nervously, cheeks visibly bright even in the dim light of his wand.

_Damnit. He's retreating again. _She quickly cut in, "Sorry. That didn't sound right. I was just surprised is all."

He smiled in relief then and sheepishly admitted, "I didn't realize I had done it, actually. In the note he left me," his hand went to his pocket as he said it and she heard the parchment that must have been his letter crinkle a bit, "Sirius kept calling you 'Gin'. I've - uh - well, I've read and reread it a lot tonight, so it's kind of fresh in my head."

She nodded thoughtfully. She had only read her letter once, but she could understand the desire to soak up those words. She might have pulled hers back out if she hadn't found the box-

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "That reminds me. Come here." She sat up further, lit the lamp on the bedside table and motioned for him to join her on the bed. She started shifting the items she has scattered when she fell asleep into a pile so that he would have room to go through his box once she had given it to him. After a moment, when he didn't join her, she looked up. He was hesitating, the blush deeper than before as his gaze flicked from her to the bed and then toward the desk. She wasn't necessarily surprised that he felt awkward climbing into a bed with her, but this situation was so far removed from anything romantic she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Not wanting to make him feel more awkward, she said, "Trust me, you don't want to sit there. I always thought Sirius was making it up, but he was definitely right; Walburga Black must have cursed the chair because my back was killing me after only a few minutes earlier. Anyway, I have something from Sirius for you."

All hesitation vanished briefly as his eyes lit up at the prospect of something further from his godfather. He immediately moved to the place beside her. "You found it already?" He asked excitedly. When she shot a look of confusion, he explained, "In my letter, Sirius said he left something for me. That I should ask you about his 'secret stash'. Is that it?" He gestured to the box she was now going to try to fish the package meant for Harry out of.

She wasn't surprised to see how eager he was, considered his admission regarding repeatedly reading his letter. Seeing it actually brought a genuine smile to her face. She let out a light laugh.

"It is indeed. Look." She flipped the lid over the top and it returned to looking like a large, plain book. "Notice the title. He wanted to make sure it was something entirely uninteresting to his family. You need a key to open it, but that could probably have been broken by the Blacks or anyone else given enough time. They couldn't do that if they couldn't find it, though." She touched her quaffle charm to the cover and it popped back open.

To her surprise, he looked at the charm intently and she thought she could detect longing in his expression. Quietly, he asked, "Did Sirius give that to you?"

His expression now made perfect sense. Just as softly, she said, "Yes, for Christmas. He had been trying to convince me… well, I think part of him wanted to be prepared, just in case, and I already knew about where he kept his things."

He nodded, but his expression was still clouded with grief, disappointment, and guilt.

Not wanting to let allow them to be sucked into the vortex of all those emotions, Ginny carried on swiftly, fishing Harry's package out. "He left this," she presented it to him, "for you. These" she said handing him his stack of letters, "I think, are all letters that you wrote to him. I didn't look or anything, so I can't be one-hundred percent sure, but that's what mine was," she said gesturing to her own pile. She saw him appraise the size of the stacks the same way she had.

"Don't compare them, Harry," she said lightly. Then she grinned widely. "I talk _a lot_. Sirius didn't write nearly as often as I did. Plus, my mail wasn't as monitored as closely as yours at first, so I felt a bit more comfortable sending things out. Until Hedwig got hurt at least. Then I was a bit more careful." She shook her head and smiled ruefully, "See? I can get carried away talking. Anyway, if you'd like to keep your stuff in here, I'll let you borrow the charm whenever you want, but first, you should take a look at what he left you. There may be a key of your own already."

He didn't make a move to open the box. Ginny's heart squeezed in sympathy. She knew that hesitation well, having just experienced it herself. She placed a gentle hand on his and he jerked to attention. Green eyes met brown as she said, "I had a hard time too."

He nodded and hesitantly asked, "What did - what did he leave you?" His eyes searched hers desperately for information on what to expect; she knew he wasn't trying to pry, but rather to prepare himself. Still, she hesitated, until she could practically feel the 'I'm sorry' forming on his lips.

Wanting to reassure him, she said, "He left me something of mine I had given him a long time ago, something he had saved. It must have meant a lot to him for him to have kept, which meant a lot to me to see, you know?" She took a deep breath before pulling Snuffles out from under the blanket where he had ended up during all the shuffling. She loved the stuffed animal and Sirius had given it to her - she refused to be embarrassed. Plus, she had a feeling Harry would understand. She had heard about how Padfoot had spent time with Harry in the hospital wing following the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. She showed it to Harry. "He gave me this."

She was pleased to note that she had been correct in her assessment that he wouldn't laugh. Her throat constricted, though, as she watched him tentatively reach out and stroke the fur, the same way she had. Reading his expression, she said, "I know. I couldn't believe it either."

"Yeah," he said in a raspy voice before pulling back and clearing his throat. She pulled Snuffles back to her chest. He turned back to the package before him once more, but still made no move to open it.

Sinkingly, she realized that she may be the problem. Frankly, she knew she should offer to leave and give him privacy, but she felt so much more comfortable there than she did anywhere else in the house. "Harry? Would it be alright if I stay in here with you?" She asked tentatively. "I'm not ready to go back downstairs," she admitted quietly. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself and looked down, for fear that looking into his eyes would make her feel guilty enough to force herself to leave. "I won't… I won't watch you or anything. I just want to sleep and I know I won't be able to if I go back downstairs." She bit her lip, feeling the guilt anyway. "Sirius always worked in the study if you wanted to head there. I won't be offended if you want privacy. Just…" she shrugged a little helplessly, hating how weak she was being. "I'd like to stay here."

"Ginny," he said softly, giving her the courage to look up again. His eyes showed understanding. "Of course you can stay here. I- I get what you mean... about feeling closer to him here. If it won't keep you up, I'd like to stay too."

Relieved, she nodded and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

The following moment was awkward as Harry hesitated to begin and Ginny figured out what to do with herself. With a forced smile, she said, "I'm just going to lay back down and leave you to it then."

He simply nodded, lost in thought, his eyes glued to the box in his hands.

Even after she rolled over and settled herself in the bed with Snuffles, she didn't hear him begin. Without rolling over to face him, she said encouragingly, "I stared at my box for a long time too, and even once I started going through it, I didn't make it past the first two items. It's okay to feel nervous."

He didn't say anything, but she thought she could feel him relax beside her. He adjusted his position before she heard him begin with the stack of letters. Being careful not to intrude by focusing on his reactions, she purposefully envisioned the Burrow in her mind and let her thoughts wander through peaceful memories.

"Hey, Gin," he said, pulling her out of her meditation, "you said the letters were what I had sent him..." There was confusion in his tone and when she rolled over to face him, he was holding a letter with his name on it written in Sirius's hand and his brows were furrowed, "but there are several here that he wrote to me that I haven't seen before."

"Really?" She perked up with interest. "I didn't actually go through mine. When is it from?"

He opened the letter with care and his brows shot up in a clear expression of surprise. "It's from last summer," he said in disbelief. He skimmed the text with a gleam in his eye. "It's about Headquarters, the Order, what Voldemort had been up to… _everything_." His expression was confused and angry. "I was desperate for news and he _wrote the damn letter_. _Why _didn't he send me this?"

Ginny cringed, remembering how angry he had been when he arrived last summer. She knew though how anger could mask sadness and recognized it was the isolation, fear, and confusion that had gotten to him, not a simple lack of information.

Gently, she told him, "He did, Harry."

"Clearly, he didn't. Or else I would have gotten it and it wouldn't be here with his things," he bit out.

She sighed. "He did, Harry. I promise. We both wrote to you, actually, _really _wrote to you. We didn't know it at the time, not until after you arrived, but everyone's mail to you was being screened. Things that weren't supposed to be shared, anything deemed a "security risk" was confiscated. When you claimed to have had no real news, Sirius confronted Dumbledore and got them back." She paused thoughtfully. "I'll have to look through mine, see if the ones I wrote are there too. I never asked what he did with them."

"Why didn't either of you tell me this? I thought you'd all just cowed to Dumbledore and let me fend for myself. It would've been nice to know you didn't," he said incredulously.

She shrugged offhandedly, trying not to show her exasperation or resurrect old issues. "Would it have mattered? You weren't in a good place, and no matter what, you were still going to feel betrayed by Ron and Hermione. Pointing out that we had tried when they hadn't wasn't going to help the situation."

"I guess you're right." He said begrudgingly. A minute later he added more sincerely, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she returned. Grateful the issue had been resolved without bringing up the old wounds between them that she would rather keep dead and buried, she rolled back over to allow him what little privacy she could and pulled Snuffles tightly to her chest, her fingers twined in the fur.

It had been quiet for a while, and despite the shuffling of Harry as he sorted through the box beside her on the bed, Ginny was quite comfortable. At peace, she drifted off to sleep again after a time.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence and rousing her from her rest. It was soft enough that she wasn't startled though. "For everything," he added. His voice was heavy enough that Ginny knew he intended to have a serious discussion.

Ginny, exhausted in every way, let out a groan. Grumpily she said, "_Harry. _Ron told me what you found out. We both know this was more about me than about you… so just, don't. Please."

"I know that. I can't stop thinking about it though. About why you're on _His_ list at all. If we had just paid more attention to-"

She cut him off. Too impatient to listen to all the reasons he was berating himself. "I love you, Harry, but can we please not do this right now? I'm too tired to make you feel better about things that aren't your fault to begin with."

He stiffened and the action caused her to wake up enough to realize what she had said. _Fuck, why did I- I'm too tired for this shit. _Growing up the way she had, expressing love, both verbally and physically, was such a normal thing that she did it without thought. She had always been careful around Harry though, knowing it had been different for him. _Until now, anyway_.

Giving up and accepting they would have to have this conversation, she quickly continued, "It would have happened anyway. Bill and Sirius both agreed the diary had to have had a compulsion charm on it. Lucius Malfoy slipped it to me because I was a Weasley, no other reason. Tom Riddle had no idea it would eventually end up in the hands of a child and must have enchanted it to make sure it would overtake fully grown witches and wizards, I'm sure. Maybe things wouldn't have gone as far as they did if people were paying attention, but… none of that matters now. Things are what they are." She yawned then and let herself relax into the bed again. "Now, _please_ shut up about ancient history and let me get some rest before I decide to _Silencio _you. I can do that now, you know." To emphasize the end of the conversation, she extinguished the light beside the bed and pulled the covers over her head.

There was a tense moment, at least for Harry who still hadn't moved, in which Ginny passively waited for some type of response. The very small part of her that was awake enough to carry on a conversation was as nervous as one would expect after all that had slipped out in her foggy state, but the larger part of her was just too damn exhausted after not having slept properly since the night at the Ministry. She promptly popped back out of her cocoon when the bed started to shake.

She still couldn't see Harry's expression, but she could hear him. He was actually _laughing_? "Um…" she said somewhat stupidly.

His laughter died down to a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Gin. But I needed that. Thank you. You're right. I've been doing exactly what Sirius told me not to do."

"Oh." _At least he hadn't been laughing at me, exactly. _"Well, good then. You're welcome."

The ephemeral levity was welcome but wasn't enough to hold back the weight of their situation and they sobered quickly. They lapsed back into silence, each lost to their own thoughts. She knew sleep had retreated enough for now that she decided to get the inevitable out of the way.

"I should probably apologize actually," she said next, sounding reluctant even to her own ears. "I'm sorry for running off like that earlier. You didn't even know what was going on yet, and there I was reacting already." She remembered how the implications had slammed into her until all she could do was flee. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I didn't want to talk to you personally. I just wasn't expecting it or ready to discuss it at all. My parents just- and I didn't know what you would- plus Ron and Hermione- _she always has so many questions_. And I just-" she cut off her own halting explanation and took a deep breath. "It was just too much and I needed to get away."

"You called Neville, though. You wanted to talk to him." Harry said quietly. She caught the slightest hint of discomfort in his tone, but she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or the situation in general.

"I did," she replied in acknowledgment, "but we already talked about why I wanted to talk to him instead of with the three of you."

"I didn't know you and Neville were that close."

"We weren't really. Not until he asked me to the Yule Ball. He couldn't go with who he wanted and I couldn't go without a date at all, so it worked out well. Neither of us had a lot of friends at the time, so we just started spending time together and ended up enjoying ourselves at the dance."

"I should have done that," Harry said, sounding a bit wistful. "When I realized I couldn't go with who I wanted as a date, I should've just asked a friend." He leaned into her side a bit. "We could have gone together."

Too tired to feign politeness, Ginny snorted and nudged him with her shoulder. "Let's not rewrite history, Harry. Even if you had decided to take that approach, we still wouldn't have gone together."

"You mean you would have said no?" He sounded surprised and… offended?

"I mean you wouldn't have asked me anyway," she said in exasperation, then more subdued, "We weren't friends, Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

_I know. You keep saying that. It's too late to change it now. _All these thoughts were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she said, "I'm glad you didn't." It was the truth after all and skirted all those old feelings just the same. "Neville has been a really good friend to me ever since."

After a moment, he responded softly, "I'm glad, Gin. I - I know what it's like to not have anyone to confide in. I've been really lucky to have friends like Ron and Hermione, even if I don't share _everything_ with them, knowing they're there is comforting."

Neither one of them brought up what they both knew- that Ginny didn't have anyone quite as close as that. She didn't miss that he was being sincere and offering her something private though. Before she could comment, he surprised her by continuing.

"And you, Gin. I've been thinking about it a lot. Even though I never really noticed it when it was happening, you've always been there for me. Sometimes it was quietly in the background, but there were loads of times you were there for me when I really needed it." She was looking at him now in stunned disbelief. She definitely hadn't expected anything like this from Harry, _ever,_ let alone tonight. His face twisted into a grimace as he continued "I've also realized that I've never been there like that for you. I know - the Chamber - but I mean in the quiet ways, the little things-"

"That's not true," she cut in forcefully. He immediately quieted and she softened her tone as she continued, "You offered to play a game of Exploding Snap with me right after the Chamber. You were treating me like a friend, not like I was weak or dangerous or in need of a minder. That- I can't tell you how much that meant to me."

He quietly processed what she said. She wasn't sure if he remembered the occasion, but she would never forget it. Truthfully, she _was_ in fact a little damaged and possibly a danger to herself, and she was lonelier than ever with the way everyone had been treating her; the fact that he treated her like a normal, unencumbered person made a huge difference in her ability to see herself similarly and act like one. It was clear that she hadn't convinced him, however.

"But you never talked to me, even after that."

Ginny shrugged. "It didn't seem like you wanted me to, and feeling like you're forcing your company on people isn't exactly a pleasant experience." She took a deep, steadying breath before admitting, "If I'm being honest, part of the reason I wanted to talk to him and not all of you was that I don't want it to be this _thing _where I'm suddenly a part of the group because you have no choice." She paused for a minute, thinking about how she wanted to explain. "My parents included Ron and Hermione because they _knew _you would tell them anyway, even though it had nothing to do with them. Yet, if I wasn't part of what they wanted to discuss, then I never would have been allowed to stay in the kitchen at all, and none of you would have bothered to share the details with me later." She shook her head and squared her jaw, despite the fact that it was still dark and he wouldn't be able to see. "I won't be an obligation. We'll just… keep doing what we've been doing, and cross any bridges we come to when the time comes."

He stiffened briefly before letting out a deep breath, signaling to her that she was not going to like what he was about to tell her.

"I get it if you don't want to be friends with us-"

"That's not what I meant," she interjected.

"But things have to change now, Gin," he said earnestly, continuing over her. "You're… you're tied in with me now, more so than anyone else, and there are things you'll have a right and a _need_ to know because of it. I know you don't like that it's because of the betrothal, but there _are_ things I have to tell you now."

She slumped in defeat. Some part of her had known this. He was correct though - she _didn't _like it.

"Alright," she replied quietly. "Can it wait though? I'm exhausted and I know you are too."

He hesitated, but said, "Yeah. It can wait until morning, but… Dumbledore will probably hear about this any minute if he hasn't already and I need - I _want _to tell you before he gets here."

She let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you. We can do that."

He sounded like he genuinely wanted to share it with her. Maybe it wouldn't have been that way if it weren't for their circumstances, but there was nothing they could do about that now. All they could do was make the best of it.

She considered their conversation. It had been understandably awkward at points, but overall had gone fairly well, she thought. Despite all the turmoil the day had brought, things were looking surprisingly good right now. Today, she had been indulgent and let herself fall to pieces a bit, but tomorrow she could, and _would_, be better. For now, she was safe here in this room that reminded her so much of Sirius, and, even better, there was no Tom Riddle, no Voldemort, and Harry was safe and whole with her.

She was distracted from ruminating on it any longer by an obscenely large yawn that forced her eyes closed. They didn't reopen.

"Harry?" She murmured sleepily.

She felt him turn toward her. "Yeah?"

"Can we sleep now?"

It was quiet for so long she was almost entirely gone when she felt more than heard his chuckle. "Sure, Gin."

"G'night," she mumbled just before she drifted into a peaceful sleep for the first time in over a week.


	7. Chapter 6

Harry was feeling quite comfortable and warm while having an excellent dream. It was really a memory from a much simpler, safer time.

_He was at the Burrow during the summer before his second year, just lounging in the sitting room along with all the Weasley brothers still in residence. Percy was polishing his prefect badge, lecturing his brothers on behaving themselves this year, so as not to interfere with his chances of becoming Head Boy the following year._

_Harry watched comfortably from his favorite spot as Fred and George nodded solemnly along while Percy directed his speech at them. When their elder brother turned toward Ron and began in on him about following school rules, however, their expressions changed into something mischievous; Harry could tell by their furious whispers that they were already plotting various pranks to play on him. When Ron was finally freed and Percy left the room to begin his NEWT preparations, he came over and sat on the edge of the couch nearest Harry's chair._

_"Merlin! He's finally gone mental. He has almost two years until he has to take his NEWTs and he's studying already? It's summer!"_

_Harry hummed noncommittally. He couldn't really mock Percy when he had studied this summer too, not that there had been much else to do at the Dursleys, but still. He was too warm and comfortable in the soft, sunlit chair that always smelled like flowers to start a conversation about it, however. Instead, he rested his head on the arm of the chair and rubbed his face further into the pillow there, where the comforting floral scent seemed to be concentrated. _I may have to steal this pillow later, _he thought idly._

_"Anyway, now that's over with, wanna play chess?"_

_"Nah. Comfortable. Don't wanna get up," he muttered sleepily._

_"Godric, you're almost as bad as Ginny," Ron replied in exasperation. "You're lucky she's been hiding or you'd never be allowed to sit there. She's always hanging around in it, reading or writing or whatever she does. Drives Mum spare that she's always falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon there." _

_Ginny. _

The thought tickled something in his mind, pulling him from his dream. As he woke, he realized that it was not imagined, that he actually _was_ warm and that same floral scent from his favorite chair at the Burrow was currently coming from somewhere very near his nose, despite that he was fully aware he was currently somewhere in Grimmauld Place.

As he squinted his eyes open, the blurred, but flaming red color of Ginny's hair stood out and thoughts of last night came rushing back to him. He must have nodded off as well after she extinguished the lamp and insisted she wanted to go back to sleep. His glasses were still on, but had become skewed while he slept. He righted them and carefully studied the girl beside him while he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately, Harry had an erection. This wasn't uncommon - he was a typical red-blooded male in his teens after all - but this wasn't just his usual morning wood. This was largely because he had woken up beside her.

Honestly, Harry felt a little uncomfortable being so aroused by Ginny. It wasn't that she was unattractive - far from it actually - but it was that he had never looked at her that way until he had seen her the way she was last night, and it felt wrong to do so now when she seemed completely unaware of how enticing she looked in that state.

When he entered the room last night and she sat up, he had been taken off guard by the sight of her in a threadbare t-shirt. In fact, it was _his _threadbare shirt, even if he hadn't seen it since it had disappeared in Ron's mess of a room that summer he had just been dreaming about. He couldn't say he had missed it, as it was a cast-off of Dudley's and had been huge and awkward looking on his small frame.

Ginny was slightly built as well, but the large clothing allowed the neckline to hang attractively off to the side, exposing her collarbone and baring her freckled shoulder. In the darkness of the room, he hadn't been able to see beyond the slight shape of the swell of her breasts, but he had guessed correctly that he'd be able to see more through the thin fabric in the light of day. Realizing that his eyes had now caught on the shape of her nipples and the slight hint of pink through the white shirt, he quickly looked away and shifted his now painfully hard erection in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort.

The movement jostled the bed and Ginny shifted a bit in response. Harry froze, desperately hoping she wouldn't wake. Lucky for him, she simply snuggled deeper into her pillow, her red hair falling like a curtain over her face. The movement as a lock of it cascaded down made the light catch, igniting all those shades of red, copper, and gold that he had first noticed yesterday, transfixing him. Unthinkingly, he reached out and brushed it away to uncover her face. It was slightly tangled after the long night, but impossibly silky between his fingers. It took concentrated effort for him to pull his hand away. Only the thought that she may wake up and notice his current excited state, which had somehow, impossibly gotten worse, was enough to overpower the urge to tangle his fingers deeper into it. It didn't help that when he did pull back, another wave of her scent hit him.

Harry forced himself to turn away from the sight of her and breathe in air that was clear of her scent to try and right himself. His eyes caught on the photos of muggle women magically stuck to the walls. He remembered Ginny's joke last night and considered them. Aside from what he had seen of her last night and a few other inappropriate magazines Seamus had passed around the dorm, Harry had very little experience looking at half-dressed women. While the women in these photos, and the ones from Seamus's magazines as well, were attractive enough in a general way, the images didn't really do anything for him now. They were too… fake. Everything about the photos was clearly staged and lifeless.

His eyes slid back to Ginny almost against his will. She was _real_. She was almost vibrating with warmth and life at times. Even last night, when they had both been subdued, she had made him laugh. He had seen a side of her in those moments that he'd never had the opportunity to witness before. He quite liked who Ginny was when she was real with him and held nothing back.

Harry thought again about everything Sirius had told him and everything he had already known about Ginny for a long time. He found that his godfather had been correct about her. She was kind and compassionate, as well as loyal and brave. She wasn't the least bit afraid of him either. _Sirius had said she was sly too._

The thought of Sirius is what enabled him to cool his ardor without doing anything physical with it. For once, however, it wasn't due to an overwhelming sense of grief. This time it was actually irritation because he knew, without a doubt, that Sirius was out there somewhere on the next great adventure laughing his arse off about Harry's current predicament.

He sighed in relief, grateful to have some measure of control back and happy that he wouldn't embarrass himself on his way to the loo. That feeling was shattered only moments later when Ginny rolled away from him, pulling the blanket with her. It would have been a relief, as he would no longer be tempted to stare at her chest, except she had kicked the blanket off and the shirt had been caught under her, showing off her entire silhouette and baring enough of her bum that he could see a hint of her knickers. _Merlin, she even has freckles on her-. _

Harry jerked back and stared resolutely at the ceiling. He couldn't ogle her like that in her sleep. It was wrong. He couldn't seem to help himself though. _I have to get out of here._

His decision came too late, however, because Ginny groaned and woke. It must have been all the exposed skin because she shivered and reached around blindly until she found the quilt and pulled it back over herself.

She let out a satisfied hum when she was once again securely wrapped.

The sound made his penis twitch. Harry decided right then and there that the universe hated him and was actively trying to kill him. Even if the situation couldn't literally kill him on its own, if her parents or any of her brothers were to walk in and find him like this, he was sure he could count himself as a dead man. He needed to find a safe way out.

_The cloak! _It suddenly came to him. _How could I have forgotten I wore it here last night?_ Truthfully, he knew why. He was completely distracted by everything that was Ginny this morning. Regardless,he was immensely grateful that he had worn it last night and it would offer him cover on his way to the loo. Quickly he stood up and threw it over himself.

A clunking sound as two objects hit the floor drew both his and Ginny's attention. She quickly sat up.

"Harry?" she asked in confusion as she tried to bat the sleep away from her tired eyes.

Harry quickly reached down and grabbed the offending objects, all thoughts of raging teenage hormones having fled at the sight of them, and slid them into his pocket before she could see.

"I'm here," he said from his invisible position. "I was just about to sneak out to use the loo. Then maybe I thought we could meet back here and talk?" He was dreading the conversation, but it had to be done.

She was stretching as she got up and nodded, but Harry was too preoccupied to appreciate it. The weight in his pocket felt like it was tied directly to something in his chest and was pulling him down a path he didn't want to go.

He almost missed it when she said, "Sounds good. I'll stop by the kitchen and get us some breakfast too."

Quickly mumbling his agreement, he fled.

After using the loo - only to relieve his bladder - he made his way to the, thankfully empty, room he shared with Ron. Morosely, he sat on the bed and pulled out the items from his pocket and looked at them. In his hand sat two rings, the Black Family Rings, and the reason he had stopped exploring the things Sirius had left him in favor of waking Ginny last night to apologize for everything.

Objectively, he knew they were actually attractive pieces of jewelry, and expensive knowing the Black family pride, but he hated them. The man's ring, Orion's, wasn't as offensive. It was a traditional family signet ring bearing the Black coat of arms, although just seeing the "Toujours Pur" motto of the Blacks unsettled him a bit.

Walburga's ring was different. If it had been given to anyone besides Harry or Ginny, it probably would have been looked upon in awe. It had a large glittering fire opal at the center and the emerald-paved band was artistically shaped to wrap around the wearer's finger in a nonsymmetrical way.

All Harry could see when he looked at it was the Basilisk.

The entire thing must have been crafted to be snakelike; there was no other explanation for why the setting of the stone had been cut so that it had a holographic effect depicting the slit of a snake's pupil, why the small emeralds were inlaid in the pave setting to resemble scales, or why the band itself wrapped and curled around unevenly like the slithering creatures did as they coiled in on themselves.

He couldn't look at the horrid thing without vivid memories of that horrible time flashing through his mind, and he really didn't think Ginny would be able to either. It was possible she could just get away with wearing Orion's ring as head of the Black family, but people would certainly expect her to have a ring from Harry too at some point, and he couldn't fathom giving her Walburga's. Even as he stared at it, the image of Ginny pale and cold, face-down on the Chamber floor floated behind his eyelids. He forcefully pushed both the memory and the ring away.

The words Sirius had written came back to him. He hadn't wanted Harry to feel badly, had said, _"my hope is simply that you'll think it through and do better moving forward". _Harry had thought about it, wallowed, and apologized last night. The time for that had passed. Today, he was going to pull himself together and be normal. He wouldn't be sullen or stuttering and awkward the way he had been last night. He was going to keep his chin up and move forward. _I can do this. Just be normal. _He repeated the sentiment like a mantra as he dressed and made his way back upstairs.

Lost in his thoughts, it felt like no time at all before she arrived carrying a tray of food. Harry was immensely grateful to find that Ginny was properly dressed when she did. While he didn't think the topic of conversation that was to follow would allow him to become distracted by thoughts of what he now knew was hidden beneath her clothes, it was just as well that the temptation wouldn't be there. It was too easy to allow himself to focus on the pleasantness of the shape of her and lose himself in the feelings of warmth they inspired than to allow himself to acknowledge the feelings of loss and hopelessness that had been constantly weighing on him recently.

She noticed his change in attire as well. "Good, you're dressed," she said without other introduction. "I don't think anyone will bother us given the circumstances, but Mum was in a tizzy about what I was wearing, even though I was wearing my dressing gown." Her voice was a disturbingly impressive imitation as of her mother's as she mimicked, "_It's just not appropriate to be wearing your brother's clothing, Ginny dear. You have such lovely nightgowns - you do remember the ones Aunt Muriel sent for Christmas, don't you? - yet you insist on dressing like some sort of vagrant!'_ " She rolled her eyes. "There is absolutely nothing 'lovely' about those nightgowns." She scowled. "It's like trying to sleep in a sack!" The unpleasant expression morphed into something playful and self-satisfied. "And that shirt had been sitting in Ron's dresser completely ignored for _years_ before I liberated it. Really, I was doing the lonely thing a favor by stealing it."

Harry was strangely disappointed to find that she hadn't known the shirt was actually his. Not that she would have seen him in it, the way she had constantly run from his presence that summer. _Ginny really has changed over the years, _he thought to himself_. _He didn't voice any of the observations, choosing instead to simply smile at her.

Setting down a plate in front of each of them, she continued, "Sorry it took so long. There was the whole bit with Mum, then managing to avoid Hermione while getting dressed, and I ran into Tonks on my way up here. Apparently, we've been given a reprieve. She, along with Remus and Mad-Eye, have managed to organize the watcher shifts at Privet Drive so that Dumbledore shouldn't be alerted to the fact that you're not there until we work out how and when to tell him."

He was both surprised and relieved, yet still uncertain. "Won't he notice they've messed with the watches?"

"From what I hear, he's a bit busy handling the fall-out from the 'revelation' that Tom is back." Her face pinched and her lip curled in disgust. "_Idiots. _As if you haven't been telling them for a _year…_" She shook the thought away and focused back on him. "He _will_ check personally at some point, but, for now, we should be safe as long as no one alerts him directly that something isn't right."

Harry, having already started on his toast, nodded and swallowed before he could answer. "That's good. I can't imagine he'll be pleased. He's always insisted I go back."

"I know," she replied darkly as her face morphed into a scowl. "And _I know_ he must have good reasons for sending you off with those… _people_…" the thinness of her lips reminded him of an annoyed McGonagall and the effect was quite frightening, "but it wasn't right. You deserved better than being stuck with _them_, and I'm glad you don't have to go back."

Her voice was suffused with warmth at the end and her eyes were almost glowing. When he looked at her full on, it felt like it was spreading from her into him and gave him the courage to say what needed to be said.

"I know what the prophecy says." he blurted out.

She blinked and all prior expression drained from her face. "Excuse me?"

He cursed himself for his own stupidity. Though he may have finally gotten the courage, it didn't mean he had magically figured out a way to do it with finesse. Still, he cleared his throat and carried on.

"The prophecy… the one Voldemort was after that was destroyed that night… I know what it says." He took a deep breath, and then suddenly the words were pouring out. "Dumbledore was actually the one who recorded it and submitted it to the Unspeakables. It was given by Trelawney of all people, if you can believe that. It said…" and so he told her everything: the prophecy, the circumstances in which it was given and passed to Voldemort, everything Dumbledore had told him about his interpretation, and even all about his behavior. She only showed any hint of reaction twice: her eyes narrowed when she realized Dumbledore had been withholding the information purposefully and a smirk lifted her face briefly when she heard about the destruction he had caused in the man's office. She never once looked surprised.

When he finally had conveyed everything, silence fell, during which she looked at him carefully. He could tell she wasn't ignoring him or stunned speechless; she was simply weighing everything, including him. Her eyes trailed over his face until they met his directly. They were resolute.

"You'll beat him," she said plainly, as if she were commenting that the sky was blue. She said it as fact.

He blew out a heavy breath, unsure whether to argue the point or thank her for her confidence in him.

He knew it wasn't the kind of confidence that one walked onto the Quidditch pitch with. It wasn't blithe or glowing, the kind that Ginny sometimes radiated. He could see how heavily it weighed on her to make the assessment at all, and he could see the knowledge had left a mark on her by the way she kept her expression slightly veiled, yet he knew she firmly believed he would win out none-the-less.

_Thank you, Gin._ He couldn't form the words, but he thought she might have understood anyway, because she smiled reassuringly at him.

Still, he wanted to know more of what she thought. He had realized she seemed to have the innate ability to see through to the heart of things easily and was capable of thinking things through even under pressure. Cautiously, he asked, "What about the power-he-knows-not? Do you believe Dumbledore?"

Her expression turned thoughtful and he could practically see her mind working as she turned over what Dumbledore said. He was glad she was seriously considering the question and not just rushing to agree in order to placate him. When she responded there was a distance to her countenance that made Harry feel like she was thinking much more than she said. All she offered was, "He may have a point there. Tom, in any of his forms, has never known or appreciated anything of love."

They spent some more time discussing the things Dumbledore had said. Harry expressed his concerns about certain things, like Voldemort's extensive magical repertoire. Dumbledore himself had said that Voldemort knew far more about magic than almost anyone else alive and Harry wasn't sure that even something as "great and terrible" as love could combat that. Ginny took it all in, making astute observations and asking for clarification on things she didn't quite understand. After a time, they settled into silence. Eventually Ginny blew out a breath and settled with her elbows on her knees and threaded her fingers through her hair. The movement sent a concentrated wave of her scent toward him.

"Ugh," she said in disgust, pulling back and trying to work out the tangles her fingers caught on. "Okay, I'm sorry to do this, but I desperately need a shower. My hair is absolutely disgusting right now." Harry didn't think there was anything remotely wrong with it, but kept his opinions to himself. What did he know about girls' hair? "Anyway, I'd like to think about things a little more, and I'm pretty sure we're all talked out about this right now. Do you agree?"

It took him a second to get past the idea of her in the shower, though he quickly banished the thought, worried she'd be able to see it in his expression. "Yeah," he said in affirmation. "I can't think of anything else to add at the moment."

"Alright," she agreed. She winced a bit and asked apologetically, "Do you think you could bring the dishes back to the kitchen? I, uh, am not quite ready for another run in with my mother just yet," she paused, "or other individuals who shall remain nameless."

He guessed just about everyone in residence was on that list, and let out a chuckle. "Sure, Gin. No problem."

She gave him a glowing smile and turned to leave. She paused as she cracked the door and peeked into the hallway. It caused her bum to stick out, drawing his attention. With one last look over her shoulder, she winked and threw him a cheeky grin before disappearing.

That image of her lingered and consumed his thoughts.

She had changed, but if she hadn't showered yet, maybe that meant she was still wearing the same knickers he had seen this morning. _We're hardly even friends. I shouldn't be thinking about her, or her underthings, like that, _the noble part of him scolded. But...it was the first time he had ever seen a girl in her knickers and she looked _hot_. Her bum was perfectly taut covered in the dark gray fabric. It looked as if they had once been black, but had faded with repeated washing that resulted not only in draining the fabric of its color, but also making it incredibly soft. _I wonder if they're her favorite, _he mused, before realizing that he was obsessing. _It's perfectly normal for a bloke to obsess over the first time he sees an attractive girl in her knickers, _another voice in his head rationalized.

Reasonable or not, Harry shook off that train of thought, realizing he had been sitting there a bit longer than he had thought. He gathered the dishes from their breakfast, noticing that Ginny hadn't really eaten hers. When they were eating and talking, he hadn't noticed, as she had given attention to the food on her plate, but now it was clear by how much was still left. Her face had appeared pretty drawn, now that he thought about it, and he promised to keep a closer eye on her eating habits moving forward.

Thankfully, he made it to the kitchen without running into anyone, quite the feat in Grimmauld Place. A glance at the smudged clock on the wall told him it was already eleven in the morning, and he knew Mrs. Weasley would begin preparations for lunch at any moment. While he wasn't upset with the woman at all, he wasn't keen on talking to anyone and hoped to make it back up to the privacy of Sirius's room without interruption. It was not to be.

Hermione accosted him almost as soon as he had reached the top step. He really hated calling it that, but the way she dragged him into the front hall and immediately launched herself into questioning him left little room for other interpretation.

He ignored her and said in a warning tone, "Good morning to you too, Hermione."

Hermione waved a dismissive hand, either missing his irritation or simply ignoring it, and replied, "It's afternoon now, Harry. You missed breakfast, as did Ginny." She gave him a pointed look. "So I gather you must have spoken. How did it go? What did you say to her? What did she say? How is she handling everything?"

His irritation only grew at this. He may have shared almost everything with Ron and Hermione, but that information had belonged to him and was his to share with whomever he liked. This was different. This wasn't just his - it was _theirs_. Moreover, Ginny's private thoughts and feelings were her own. He felt as though last night she had let him see a part of her that she rarely showed others, and he had no right, nor any desire, to share it with Hermione.

Not wanting to pick a fight with her already, he decided on evasion. "Didn't you two spend the entire evening talking in your room? You didn't even come down to dinner."

She faltered for a moment, then composed herself. "Well, yes, but she just said she was confused about some things and asked me questions about what we had discovered from the journal. I had thought it was completely to be expected that she would be curious and want to understand, so I spent the evening explaining everything in detail, until she said she needed to write some letters and left," she explained before her lips pursed. Irritated, she continued, "Then Ron told me this morning that he had told her all about it when they talked and that she had no trouble understanding it then, that she had figured most of it out on her own already! She didn't need my help. She just didn't want to talk to me about it."

"Perhaps you should respect her wishes then, Hermione," he replied stonily.

"I- we need to make sure she's alright, Harry. She was clearly very upset yesterday. Between the suddenness of the betrothal and everything with Sirius-"

Hearing her mention Sirius pushed him past his limit. She had _no right_ to mention him as if she knew a damn thing about what he and Ginny were going through. Hermione hadn't even been supportive of Sirius when he was alive. He finally snapped, "We don't _have_ to talk to you about _anything_. You can't control when or who people talk to. It's really none of your busin-"

"Harry," came her strong, sure voice from behind him and he cut himself off, turning to look at her immediately where she stood at the top of the basement stairway.

Ginny's tone hadn't been warning or reprimanding, and neither was her expression. She almost seemed to be studying him, but there was nothing judgmental in her eyes - everything about her was clear and steadfast, only asking for his attention. Their gaze met and he relaxed a fraction. She lifted her lips slightly in response.

Turning her gaze on Hermione, who looked rather upset by the turn her conversation had taken, she said in a friendlier voice than Harry could have imagined, "Thank you for worrying about us, Hermione. I know you're just trying to understand so that you can find a way to help. However, Harry was right." She glanced at Harry, shooting him a grateful look, "I would appreciate it if you could just respect my privacy for now and I'm sure Harry would as well."

Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry for confirmation. She looked hurt and slightly put out. Pushing back his annoyance as much as was possible at the moment, he stiffly said, "I would."

Smiling, Ginny said perkily, "Great. Now that we're in agreement, Hermione, perhaps you could help by doing some more research on the ritual in the library? I know they said the journal was all they had on it, but they could have missed something, and you're the best person I know at doing research. If there's anything to find, I'm sure you will."

"Of course, Ginny. Anything I can do to help," Hermione said, looking placated and grateful for having something to do. She gave Harry a repentant look as she passed on her way to the library. Apparently, she intended to start immediately.

Ginny turned to him next. He knew he must have been staring at her in astonishment, but she made no mention of it. She acted as if he hadn't just watched in complete amazement as she calmly took control of the situation and defused the budding argument effortlessly.

She motioned for him to follow her. Without thought, he followed closely behind her up the stairs. It was a mistake.

Her bum was perfectly aligned in front of his face. Her trousers weren't remotely flimsy, but he still felt he could see right through them to the creamy expanse of toned legs, the freckles there making a pattern for his eyes to trace all the way up to her taut b-.

The hardening occurring in his own trousers had Harry looking down resolutely at his feet as he trudged up the stairs. _What the hell? I was never like this with Cho_. True, he had enjoyed looking at her - she had a pretty face - and he had imagined what her body might have looked like beneath all the layers of her uniform. However, those had been hazy and indistinct guesses and had certainly never consumed him to the point of leering at her like a pervert the way he was with Ginny. _Stop_, he ordered himself. _She's a person, not an exhibit. _

Harry realized that, while he _could_ stop, he didn't _want_ to. Thinking about Ginny made him feel alive and excited, something he hadn't felt since his godfather had died. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd been using thoughts of Ginny like a Patronus to avoid the reality that was hovering like a dementor. The thought made him feel guilty and dirty, like he'd been using her as a cheap escape.

As he considered it more closely however, he realized it didn't have to be that way. It wasn't just the way that she looked that helped him; it was her. The way she spoke and handled herself, (and him, if he was honest with himself) warmed and centered him. Even her scent was more comforting than it was arousing.

Latching onto this new realization, he struck up conversation instead. "Hermione said you were writing letters last night? Who were you writing to?"

She shot him an assessing, guarded look over her shoulder, before facing forward again.

"I'm not meaning to pry-" he began, face burning, as he realized his questions had come off as an interrogation, and Merlin knew how he hated when people did that to him.

She waved it away, though. Without looking back, she replied, "That's actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. With everything else we had to talk about, it had completely slipped my mind earlier, until I got a response letter. I was just waiting until we could talk privately if you don't mind," she said easily as she led him into the study. Part of him jumped at the thought of being alone with her at the moment, but he was mostly just glad they were in the study where there were no reminders - aside from the sight of her itself - of what had happened earlier this morning.

As soon as they were seated, she launched abruptly into the topic, the same way she had this morning. "I wrote to Percy last night. I'm sorry for not asking, and not mentioning it until now, but I didn't think either of us were really ready to talk yet, and it couldn't wait." She took a moment to center herself, an action Harry was becoming accustomed to seeing. Now self-possessed, she continued assured, "The news of the betrothal hasn't broken yet and I thought it would be wise to see if we could get some control over when it does. Percy's position in the ministry makes him well-placed to assist in covering it up for the time being."

"Percy…" he replied slowly, not wanting to poke at the wound, but also wanting to point out that, terrible as it was, her brother had given them no reason to suggest he would be willing to help. As far as he knew, Percy was still avoiding his family despite having been proved wrong about Voldemort.

She sighed. "I'm not condoning his behavior. He's hurt all of us. It's true that Percy is a prat who has yet to admit he made a mistake and I'm still very upset with him, but… he's family. He has a lot of pride and ambition, yes, but I asked for his help. I don't think he'd ignore that, even if he didn't already know he was wrong." Looking conflicted, she continued, "He does care. Despite how awful and self-righteous that letter he wrote to Ron about you was, it came from a good place. He was just aligned with the wrong people and too foolish and stubborn to see it."

Giving it careful consideration before replying, Harry decided that she was right. Percy was a fool if he thought Ron would ever leave Harry's side, but given how he prioritized success over the bonds of family and friends, Harry could see how he may have thought he was helping his brother. Still, he wondered, "Are you sure we can trust him? That he's not going to run to Umbridge or Fudge?"

"He'd better not," she replied tensely, with a dangerous glint in her eye. She quickly relaxed and continued, "I didn't tell him the specifics - I still don't trust him enough for that - but I told him we had been betrothed and that I would become a bigger target if it became public knowledge." She shrugged. "Hopefully that'll be enough incentive. He did agree, so I'm optimistic for now."

Harry could see a flaw in that. "By pointing out how dangerous for you it is, don't you think he'll just look into it more and try and break it? Especially if he still thinks I'm unstable or too dangerous for you?"

Resolutely, she said, "I made it very clear that I will not be breaking the betrothal under any circumstances and that things would only be worse for me if he attempted to intervene or if there was anything disparaging about you in the papers as a result of his interference." Her voice took on a hint of malice as she continued, "I also made it clear that he would not like the repercussions if he betrayed his family that way." Harry didn't know exactly with what she had threatened her brother, but her predatory expression convinced him that he was better off not knowing.

"Alright," he said, trusting her judgement. She nodded in return, but there was still a bit of lingering tenseness to her that had been brought on by discussing Percy. It bothered him to see it, so he tried to move the conversation along. "You said that was one of the things you wanted to talk about. What else was there?"

As Harry intended, the tight air about her vanished, only to be replaced by something that was all business. Her position was once again direct as she said, "I've been thinking about what we discussed this morning." Harry grew nervous, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. She hastened to reassure him, "I'm still certain you'll win, Harry." Thoughtfully, she added, "...and I do believe Dumbledore could be right about love being the power he knows not." Shaking her head, she continued, "It's unlikely to keep you alive, however. You need tools and training if you're going to fight him. I think we need to prepare as much as possible, now that we know a final confrontation is inevitable."

"What kind of training?" He asked, though he knew he agreed with her. He definitely wasn't prepared to face Voldemort, that was made very clear by the way the battle had gone in the Atrium of the Ministry. Any kind of training would help.

"I was thinking… we have access to a lot of good people with excellent skills being here at Headquarters. Bill could teach us as much as possible about wards, and I've been taking Ancient Runes, so I could help fill in the basics for you. Tonks and Moody should both be available to teach you tricks from the Aurors. Andromeda Tonks brews potions and provides healing for the Order and would probably be willing to help. I'm sure there are others, but that's what I've got for now. For the moment, I think it's enough."

Harry nodded in approval. "That sounds good. I'll ask Dumbledore as well when we finally talk to him."

"I was thinking so, too. Tonks is in and out all the time, so I'll ask her about her mother." She pulled a letter out of the desk, and he briefly wondered when she had time to write it. "I did want to get a letter out to Bill as soon as possible, though." She noticed his curious expression. "I needed to talk to him about Gringotts stuff anyway, with Sirius's will and all…" she trailed off. "But I ran out of owls. Could I borrow Hedwig?"

"Sure. Come on," Harry said, leading the way to his room, where he expected Hedwig was at present. If she had been there this morning, he didn't remember, but she was almost always sleeping at this time of day when they had been at the Dursleys during previous summers. He was correct and they had sent the letter in a matter of minutes.

He watched Hedwig fly away with grace over the bright London skyline before it occurred to him that something wasn't right. "What do you mean, you ran out of owls? Couldn't you have borrowed Errol or Pig?"

"Errol is back from Percy, yes, but I don't really trust him to get a letter to Bill after that. Especially since I want to see Bill as quickly as possible." Then, for the first time in what felt like a very long time, Harry watched as a blush spread across Ginny's face. "Pig isn't here actually. I borrowed him to send a letter to Dean and he hasn't gotten back yet."

"Oh." Harry had completely forgotten what she had told Ron on the train. It made something in his chest uncomfortable. He wanted to both scowl and apologize, because he knew why she had to write him. She had _just yesterday_ told them that she had "chosen Dean Thomas" and now that option had been taken from her.

"I just told him not to bother to write." She gave him a pointed look that told him to not to go where he was planning on going. "I exaggerated a bit to nettle Ron on the train. He'd really only just asked if it would be alright if he wrote me, and I didn't see any reason not to allow it at the time." She shrugged cavalierly and the blush was now nonexistent, but he still wondered how she truly felt about it. She was looking around the room.

Her eyes caught on the clock, the time causing her to let out a surprised "Oh!" Turning back to him, she said, "Neville will be here any moment," Harry was surprised by the sudden jolt of annoyance he felt at that, "and I wanted to talk to him about the Wizengamot. He'll inherit the Longbottom seat and his Gran has been preparing him his entire life for it. As the seventh child, and the only girl to boot, I figured it would never really apply to me and didn't bother to pay attention to any of the discussion about what being a member entails," she gave him a sheepish grin.

Her expression made him smile back reassuringly. "I'm sure you know more than me."

"Actually, that was another thing on my list. I'm fairly confident the Potters still have a seat, which will become yours. I thought maybe we could both sit down and talk with him about all that. Get an idea of what to expect."

Harry's mind went blank. "My family has a seat on the Wizengamot?"

She looked at him with the briefest hint of confusion before it morphed into compassion. "I'm not completely sure, Harry. But it would make sense. You come from an old and wealthy family. That's usually how it works."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He'd been living in the wizarding world for almost five years now and he was still constantly being blindsided by things. Someone should have told him sooner. He did know he had been too young to take control of a seat on the governing body before, but Ginny said Neville had been being prepped for it his entire life. Shouldn't someone have helped him prepare too?

Ginny pulled him from his thoughts with a gentle squeeze on the arm. Her calm settled him. As if she sensed that he was present again, she said reassuringly "I could very well be wrong. That's why we're going to talk to Neville, okay?"

"Yeah," he said weakly. He shook off the negative feelings and said again more strongly, "Yeah. It's a good idea." It was even true. He had intended to go through everything Sirius had left him this afternoon, but it could wait. Last night he had been dragging it out, rereading all the letters from himself that he had written to Sirius, wondering if the man could tell by the written words how much it had meant to Harry to have him in his life. The first items he had come across had been the rings, which had led to the conversation and then falling asleep. There was a lot more to go through - he still didn't know if this mysterious book his letter referenced was a separate item left to Harry personally, or just the magical lock-box that Sirius used to store things - but he was almost grateful to have an excuse to put it off. He knew once he had examined everything it would feel final.

Ginny just smiled in understanding.

Neville arrived soon thereafter and they headed to the study. He let them know that the Potters and Blacks both had seats, meaning both Harry and Ginny would be expected to take their places on the Wizarding body once they had reached twenty-one. It was the minimum age usually allowed, but exceptions could be made when the decision had been ratified by two-thirds of the Wizengamot. Given the current state of things, neither Harry nor Ginny had high hopes of that happening. Everything was too unstable for most members of the Wizengamot to openly support Harry Potter.

They spent the next hour discussing the ins and out of the hierarchy, the expected attendance, the voting procedures, and additional ins and outs. Mrs. Weasley even brought them up some sandwiches, saying they had missed lunch, but should keep up their strength. She didn't ask any questions, but gave both Harry and Ginny lingering, sad looks that they ignored for the moment. Now wasn't the time.

Neville offered a lot of information and Ginny asked a lot of questions, while Harry did his best to follow along. He kept finding himself distracted by Ginny though. He noticed she slightly squinted when she was considering something, usually arriving at some insight he would have missed. Thinking back to their earlier conversation, Harry realized this seemed to be a common thing for her. He added "inquisitive" to his growing list of her qualities.

When Neville finally left, he was grateful. It had been a long day already with far too many long discussions. It didn't help having to watch Neville hug Ginny goodbye. The closeness between the two was something he wasn't part of, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He said farewell to Neville with a nod, the other boy giving him a slightly amused looking smile that did nothing to settle Harry's feelings of annoyance toward him.

Harry stayed as close to Ginny as he could for the rest of the day. After having spent most of that time thinking it over, Harry realized that his earlier assessment of Ginny acting as a patronus for him had been spot on.

In her, he had someone who knew the truth of what he had to face. She didn't bombard him with questions he didn't have answers to the way Hermione would have, or look at him with uncomfortable sympathy like Ron sometimes did. She simply supported him, resolute in her belief that he could and would overcome.

Not being the subject of a prophecy regarding the end of a Dark Lord herself, she couldn't understand entirely, but she understood enough. She understood his grief and loss, as well as the terror and horror that was the man that he had to face. She knew and understood all that, had a fair appreciation what it all meant as well, but she didn't bow under the weight. She stayed strong and leant that strength to him as well.

It wasn't until she _insisted _that he needed a shower that Harry left Ginny's side. Even then, he did it grudgingly, wishing he could find some excuse to make her stay. Just as he suspected, the further he got from her, the more aptly he felt his depression return. It seemed his morose feelings had company, however, in the form of his best friend.

Ron was sitting on his bed in their shared room when Harry entered, staring at the wall. He didn't look at Harry when he entered. Just offered a dull hello.

Concerned, Harry asked, "Alright, mate?"

Ron ignored his greeting and posed his own question in return. "You talked to Ginny?" There was a strange note in his tone that Harry couldn't place.

"Yeah," Harry said cautiously, wondering if he had spoken to Hermione and was now going to fish for the answers he had refused to give earlier on her behalf. When Ron turned, however, it immediately became clear that this was not the case.

His friend's face was complete open and the genuine distress there made it clear he had no ulterior motive when he asked plaintively, "How is she handling everything?"

Hermione had asked him that same question earlier, but he felt none of the annoyance toward Ron that he had felt toward her earlier. His guileless expression showed nothing but concern for his sister's well-being and none of the curious need to understand and dissect that Hermione's had held. Harry understood that he wasn't asking for details, but for reassurance.

He tried to sound soothing as he spoke. "She's alright, mate. It's a big adjustment, but your sister is tough. She's handling it." He let out a self-deprecation laugh, "Probably a lot better than I am, honestly."

Ron leaned his head back against the wall, exhaled a large breath and gave a weak smile. He didn't laugh, but Harry understood how sometimes the anxiety didn't let you do more than that. He patted Ron's shoulder as he made his way to his own bed and plopped down.

They both lounged quietly for a few minutes. Harry liked this about Ron, that they could both just relax without feeling the need to fill the silence with inane chatter the way Seamus and Dean did. Still, he wasn't surprised when Ron eventually did break the quiet to ask if Harry was handling everything alright as well.

Once again sensing that Ron wasn't trying to pry and had no intention of pressing for details that Harry was reluctant to give, he replied, "Yeah." Then, because he thought his friend should know, "Your sister has actually been pretty amazing about this, surprisingly. I'd be willing to bet if this had happened with anyone but her, it'd be a hell of a lot harder."

Harry hadn't actually meant to reveal that much and quickly looked at his friend, wincing in anticipation. Instead of taking the mickey out of him as he had expected, Ron nodded thoughtfully, looking relieved.

"Ginny's special like that, always has been." Ron met his eyes seriously. "I'm glad you can see that. I've always worried she would end up with someone who wouldn't fully appreciate how amazing she really is."

Harry looked away, dragging a hand through his anxiously. "Er - we're not - you know it isn't -"

Thankfully Ron cut off his incoherent babbling with a dismissive gesture. "I know that, obviously. We all know you've never so much as even looked at Ginny like she's a girl before." Harry shifted guiltily as he tried to force down a blush, something that Ron thankfully didn't notice. "But with how binding this is, at least I know she won't end up with some prick who won't appreciate her."

"Y-yeah," Harry said, coughing to cover up his guilty expression. "I suppose that's true." He sobered when he remembered her words to Ron yesterday. "Don't you think she deserved a chance to try to find 'the one' though? Maybe there was a bloke waiting out there, one who would have appreciated her, that she would have fallen in love with?" Harry hated even just saying the words aloud. It felt _wrong _somehow, but he fought to keep the distaste off his face.

Maybe he hadn't been entirely successful, because Ron eyed him suspiciously before replying, "Well, she'll have you in a way. You'll appreciate her. It'll have to be enough." He shrugged, but then gave a sly smile. His eyes lit as he said, "Who knows, maybe something will change and it'll happen anyway."

Harry kept his expression carefully blank. He didn't think Ron could possibly have guessed at any of the changes in his perception of Ginny that had occurred over the last twenty-four hours, and after that comment about Harry not knowing Ginny was a girl, he was almost sure that Ron wasn't hinting that something might grow between them. He must have been though because Ron knew the binding of the betrothal was unbreakable. He almost asked, but there was something there in his friend's look that cautioned him against giving anything away about his feelings.

As the full content of what Ron said hit him, however, his face dropped. Ron was correct in the worst possible way; things _could_ change in a way that could possibly allow her to have that - he could die as a result of the prophecy, facing down Voldemort. Even that was unlikely, however, seeing as Ginny was next on Voldemort's list. If Harry were to die facing Voldemort, her only chance was if Harry took him down as well. His resolve to defeat, already quite strong, hardened. He would make sure she never had to face Tom Riddle alone again.

Noticing Harry's expression, the impish look slipped away from Ron's face and he was serious once more. "Honestly, Harry, I've never thought anyone could be good enough for my baby sister, but if there is anyone who could ever deserve her, it would be you."

It was clear that Ron had misread exactly where Harry's thoughts had taken him, but the sentiment touched him none-the-less. He nodded silently to his friend, knowing Ron would understand. Heavy words and declarations had never been their thing.

Harry gathered his shower equipment and clothing silently before he headed off to the loo. After spending the day in Ginny's company, despite trying to focus solely on learning more about her, he found his body very much excited and looking for release. Feeling it would be a poor thank-you to his best mate to think about how developed his sister had become, Harry did his best to draw up the image of an anonymous pair of breasts in his face as he took himself in hand.

The fantasy sharpened in his mind as he continued. The - anonymous, random - girl straddled his lap and her long hair tickled where his hands laid on her hips as she rubbed herself against him. In his mind, Harry kept his eyes cast down at their bodies instead of her face. He ignored the fact that the hair smelled like flowers and felt like silk where it brushed him, as well as the constellation of freckles that dotted her chest. What he couldn't deny, however, was the long mane of hair made of seemingly endless shades of red that entered the fantasy and brought him to a shuddering climax.


	8. Chapter 7

Ginny made her way down to the kitchen, despite the fact that all she wanted to do was lie down. She knew that the dingy room where her bed was would only intensify her anxiety, however, and that didn't sound enticing at all. Her restless thoughts were a sure indicator that sleep wasn't an option either. Instead, she intended to help her mother prepare the evening meal, as it was now almost dinner time, and she knew her mother would appreciate the gesture.

Aside from being scolded for her attire this morning, which she truly didn't feel was _that_ inappropriate, she hadn't really spoken to either of her parents since yesterday. Even though she was upset about what they had done, she was able to see how they had come to the decision. That didn't mean she was quite ready to talk it out and forgive them entirely, but her mother would understand the gesture for what it was.

Better yet, it would give her some time to think in relative peace.

She felt like she had spent the last twelve hours with Harry. It was a rather accurate assessment actually - aside from her shower earlier and a few moments here or there, he had been by her side since very early this morning. She even had to practically force him to go shower himself just now.

He had been so reluctant. If it had been anyone else she was trying to convince, she would have threatened to hex them. With Harry, however, she was always careful not to do that in any way that could be considered legitimate. She knew his relatives were horrid people and she suspected he had been abused - how much she couldn't say, but he always returned to them from the Dursley's looking far too thin and downtrodden for her liking. She had teased him instead, saying he couldn't hang around her any longer until he took care of the smell. It wasn't true, but he had laughed slightly and finally caved.

It wasn't that she _minded_, per se. It was more the fact that it was just plain _odd_. He had never spent so much time in her direct company. They had orbited around each other as part of the same crowd for years, but he had seemed intent on being with her today more than anything.

She had kept her feelings hidden, but for a brief time had become irritated. Once they had completed all their major discussion topics and tasks, she had expected him to run off as he had usually done. After all, she had made it very clear last night that she did not want their current situation to change things. But then he didn't.

It bothered her because she couldn't imagine a situation in which Harry followed her around like he had been that wasn't due to the betrothal. She quickly smothered the feeling, though, as she realized he didn't appear to be _trying_. He wasn't making any extra efforts to talk to her or get her to join him with Ron and Hermione. He was just simply tagging along.

The more she considered it, the more it made sense. She clearly didn't want to talk about the implications of the betrothal on a personal level and neither did he. She figured he expected that the others probably did.

Hell, Hermione had already tried and nearly set him off. She was grateful she had been able to intervene there. Harry really didn't need to be at odds with their friends right now, and Ginny knew Hermione meant well, really. She knew the older girl just didn't realize that the incessant manner in which she asked questions was perceived as pestering to most people, even though it was really just Hermione's way of trying to understand so that she could effectively be supportive. Despite Ginny's understanding of this, she still made sure to pass by the library stealthily, not wanting to draw Hermione's attention to herself now that she was alone.

Further thought convinced her that it had probably been a relief to be in her company considering she was avoiding everyone else as much as he was. They were discussing practicalities and the prophecy, for the most part, instead of feelings. The realization soothed her irritation and she allowed him to join in without question.

Sometimes his behavior was a bit off, like when they had talked with Neville. She had never seen that look on Harry's face before - he almost looked _jealous_. He had never been the type to begrudge others their good fortune as far as she knew, but the best she could figure it was because the prophecy could have been about Neville had Tom chosen differently.

She didn't judge him for it. Being in Grimmauld Place still set her on edge as well, and that was without having the added pressure of a prophecy either. Merlin knew it took _her_ a lot of effort to ignore her surroundings and keep her thoughts focused - something quite telling considering Ginny was quite adept at lying, even to herself. It was one of the reasons she kept them so busy today.

If she just kept focusing on a single task at a time and methodically working through everything, she could force herself not to think about how much everything still hurt. As long as her thoughts didn't stray to anything not on the list and she didn't run out of tasks, she would be fine. _Everything would be just fine_, she repeated firmly in her mind.

Even now, as she trudged down the steps toward the kitchen, she was running through everything she had learned from Neville. He had mentioned there was an unofficial hierarchy in the Wizengamot. The members with the highest standing would cast their votes first and, based on family alliances, lower level members were expected to vote in the same manner.

She added studying the old family alliances to her list as she tried very hard to keep her eyes focused on the steps. It prevented her from falling, but also ensured that only in the very edges of her periphery could she see the mounted heads of prior Black family house-elves.

She couldn't deny the fact that she knew they were there, however, which brought up thoughts of Kreacher. She hadn't seen the batty old elf since the incident when they had arrived. Harry had told her what Dumbledore had said about him though, how Sirius had paved the way for his own destruction by being cruel and Bellatrix and Narcissa had played into the creature's dislike for his master. She knew in her heart that Dumbledore had the right of it. As nasty and unpleasant as Kreacher had been to Sirius, he simply didn't know better. He was a product of the Black family; even if it had occurred to him to do so, he hadn't had the freedom to choose another path and escape the way Sirius had.

At the bottom of the stairway, she paused to close her eyes and take a breath. It hurt to admit those things, and also made her feel guilty, but that didn't make it any less true. She had yelled at Kreacher yesterday and he had listened, which made sense now, but it also made her feel uncomfortable to think that she could be heading down the path to the same adversarial relationship Sirius had shared with the elf. As much as she loathed him and he loathed her, she still felt all sentient beings deserved to be treated with some level of respect.

Sighing in resignation, she decided her mother could wait and called quietly, "Kreacher."

The aged, miserable elf appeared before her in the front hall with a crack immediately, staring at her with revulsion and disdain. Ginny did her best to swallow her own negative feelings back and kept a calm mask in place. He grudgingly bowed before her, though she noted he had done it as shallowly as he could with it still being considered a bow. He then straightened, staring at her while waiting for some type of command. He still didn't speak. It took a moment for her to remember that she had told him not to when she had scolded him yesterday.

Feeling guilty, but also reluctant, she forced herself to say, "I'm sorry for what I said to you, Kreacher." His lined face showed reluctant surprise for a brief moment, before reverting to its usual unpleasant expressions. "I still believe you did something wrong, as Sirius was your master even if you had other Blacks giving you orders, but I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. Sirius was never kind to you, and I understand why you wouldn't want to listen to him." The elf appeared to be fighting himself, and she realized she still hadn't lifted the order for silence. _Perhaps that's for the best until I've had a chance to finish speaking, _she thought. She remembered what he had said yesterday. "You may not like me, and your old Mistress may have loathed me, but you _will_ obey me and _only me_ as your Mistress," she said sternly, leaving no room for tricks. "You _will _be helpful and polite. You _will not_ do anything to cause disruptions, knowingly interfere with any business, or give up secrets about anyone who steps foot in this house, the Order of the Phoenix, or the war. You also _will not_ leave this house unless I tell you to and you will _only _go where I say. These are _direct orders_, is that clear?" She finished with a stern look, hoping that covered everything. She waited for his nod.

When he gave it, expression full of hatred, she said, "You may speak, now."

His face was still twisted with revulsion, displeasure etched in the lines of his ancient face, but there was curiosity as well. "Blood-traitor Mistress speaks to Kreacher calmly now. She _apologizes_. Kreacher still does not like her - no he does not - but he must be obeying new Mistress. Poor old Mistress, what would she say?" He shot a longing look at the curtained portrait of Walburga on the wall across the entryway to the drawing room. He reached out to touch it before pulling back. The look he gave Ginny was full of loathing as he spoke in an aggrieved tone. "But Kreacher cannot know, because he cannot talk to old Mistress anymore, can he? She upsets the blood-traitor, half-blood, filth that new Mistress and old Master allow to infest the house, and Kreacher is not allowed to cause disruptions."

She felt a bit bad for the poor thing. It had been just Kreacher and that horrid portrait for years. It really wasn't surprising that he was a bit mad after that. The Blacks weren't exactly known for being kind either, and she doubted the company he had before the woman died was much better.

She bit her lip in consideration before offering with as much kindness as she could muster, "If you can get Mrs. Black off the wall, you may keep her in your quarters and speak to her there, so long as you remember that you are not to take orders from her."

The elf's droopy eyes widened as he looked at her briefly, before he turned with purpose toward the portrait. His posture radiating determination, he went to work waving his hands and muttering too low for Ginny to hear. Shocked, she watched in strange fascination. While didn't have much experience with house elves, she had never seen one need to do anything like this before in order to accomplish something.

The portrait seemed to sense what was happening and began to yell shrilly, but Kreacher snapped his fingers and the noise cut off immediately. In less than a minute of continuous work, the portrait separated from the wall with a slight tearing sound and disappeared from view with another snap of his fingers.

Ginny just stared in slack-jawed astonishment at the now clear spot on the wall, looking only slightly worse for wear due to a few tears in the wallpaper. She was only trying to bridge some of the gap between them, not actually expecting him to do it. After a few attempts at speaking that resulted only in the silent opening and closing of her mouth, she managed to stutter, "Th-thank you, Kreacher. That was very helpful," she complemented, because it really was. Only half-lying, she continued, "I know how much she means to you, and I hope you will be able to spend more time with her now. You may do so now, if you wish."

Kreacher bowed much lower than before, his long nose practically brushing the floor, before croaking out, "Yes, Mistress Ginevra." He disappeared with another crack before she could blink.

Ginny shook her head in wonder at what had just transpired. Yesterday she had wanted to murder him and today she was making efforts to make him happy. Even more astonishing, it had actually _worked. _He had used her _name. _That had certainly never happened before.

"That was very well done, Firefly."

"Bill!" She exclaimed, whirling around and leaping at her brother.

He laughingly caught her, like she had known he would, and spun her around. He always did that, and the familiar gesture was incredibly comforting given all the surprises she had faced in the last day.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said fervently.

"Well it seems there have been big things happening around here. Don't want to be out of the loop, now do I?" His tone was light and humorous, but his eyes were searching hers. He knew she wouldn't have written him and begged him to come quickly if it weren't important.

She was searching his expression as well. Clearly, he knew more than she had told him.

"You didn't ask about Kreacher," she said with a vague gesture to where the elf had just been. "You must know, then, about Sirius Black's will?"

He nodded, looking at her curiously, before saying vaguely, "Probably more than you." Her brow furrowed and he sighed. "There are some things we need to talk about in regards to that. It's actually why the goblins let me leave work so early, so that I could talk to you."

Even more confused than before - the goblins were not known for that sort of leniency - she slowly replied, "Okay… let's go to the study then. Come on." Abandoning her plan to aid her mother, she led the way up to the third floor. Honestly, it was beginning to feel like she would forever be conducting business in this room.

They each paused after getting situated, unsure of how much the other knew.

Bill started first. "I understand Sirius made you his heir."

She nodded. "That's what the will says, and Kreacher is listening to me, as you saw."

"I did." He said before pausing. Tentatively, he asked, "Do you fully understand what that means?"

The way he asked, the set of his jaw, and the crease between his brows all told her that she really didn't know as much as she thought and that she would not like what he clearly had to tell her.

"As far as I know," she said pointedly, the anxiety making her snappish, "it means I inherit everything. Not just the material things, but also the Black seat on the Wizengamot."

He tilted his head. "There's a bit more to it than that. Or, there could be. The choice is up to you really."

She didn't fail to notice the neutral way he said it. Exasperated, she said, "Just explain, Bill. After everything… I just don't have the energy to play games right now." Bill was one of the few people she was willing to admit weakness to. Definitely the only person in the house.

He sighed. "As of right now, you have inherited everything Sirius personally owned. That includes the house, his vault, and any other possessions circulating that belonged directly to him. You must have done something to indicate your agreement to this, because that's already been confirmed by the goblins. However, he also made you his heir, which requires a formal acceptance in the presence of the goblins in which you take over as head of the Black house. It would entitle you to all the Black family owns, including the Wizengamot seat."

Ginny turned it over, not quite understanding. "Shouldn't all of that belonged to Sirius already and passed to me? Why wouldn't that happen automatically as well?"

Patiently, he explained, "There are ceremonial procedures that need to be followed when taking on the full mantle of the family. When Sirius went to Azkaban, his father was still head of house, so there had been no need for him to do those even if he hadn't been disowned. His father died while he was in prison, though, and he never managed to make it to Gringotts after he escaped and became a fugitive, so he was never able to formally accept the title."

"Alright," she said. "So, I just go perform the ceremony and then everything is settled, right?" Somehow, she knew this wasn't an accurate assessment, but she _hoped._

"Not quite," he said with a grimace. "There's a bit more to it than that… it's…" He sighed heavily, the weight of whatever he had to tell her obvious by his doleful expression. "I don't want to pressure you, but… The problem is, the greater Black family assets have been in limbo since Walburga died. While he _was_ a fugitive, Sirius had never stood trial, so the Goblins weren't required to follow the regulations for convicts. As he was still alive and there had been no grounds to withhold his birthright, no one else could make any claim to it. But if you don't claim it now, anyone with a claim to the family name can petition for the right to inherit it all. In all likelihood, the-"

"_I get it_,"she snapped, irritated by his long-winded explanation that had given her no real answers. "The Malfoys or the Lestranges would seize it. _Get to the point, Bill! _It's obvious that it's best if I accept, so tell me why I wouldn't."

Grimly, he finally answered. "To take over as head of the Black house, you'd have to become a Black, Ginny, in terms of magic and everything else."

Ginny's stomach dropped. She knew why he had been so hesitant now. Her mother had explained it to her when she gave her "the talk", their discussion on how pregnancy affected a witch's magic leading into how family magic worked through the bloodlines and the ties that bound them together. Little Ginny had been aghast at the thought, insisting she would never marry then, because she would never want to not be a part of the family. Her mother had patiently explained that marriage bonds added onto a witch's magic, not breaking it, since it was creating something new and stronger through love. But this… choosing to become a Black would mean forsaking the Weasley name and breaking her magical connection to them.

She wouldn't be a Weasley anymore, not by name or by magic.

The world tilted as it hit her. It had been her worst fear when she had woken up in the Chamber, that her family wouldn't forgive her and they would disown her. It was wrong and made her feel like a terrible person upon reflection - shouldn't she have feared Tom or the Basilisk? Harry had assured her he had defeated them both though. Even more importantly, shouldn't she have feared that those hurt by her actions wouldn't recover and the hurt she would have caused to everyone who loved them if that were the case? As time passed and she gained perspective, these fears had become greater, but she had been scared and selfish at eleven.

There had always been a part of her that feared she wasn't _enough_ to belong. She was the youngest and only girl, often pushed aside or treated differently. _If you had been good enough, less weak perhaps, they wouldn't have left you behind. They would have actually noticed when you began to fade away. _The insidious voice that taunted her with these thoughts had been latched upon and echoed by Tom, until he had forced her to do enough terrible things that she knew they were both correct.

Briefly, as Harry walked her out of the Chamber, she thought that perhaps she should have just died there. It would have been well-deserved for all that she had done, she thought, and she wouldn't have to face losing the love of her family. While the Weasley's had always been poor, the one thing they had in spades was love. Before Hogwarts, that had been all she ever wanted or needed. At that time, however, she hadn't felt loved by her brothers in months and just knew she would never again be looked upon by her parents with the fiercely protective, unending devotion that she had last seen as she boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Harry had tried to tell her it would be alright, but she hadn't believed him until Ron had cried out in relief at the sight of her. Then they had gone to Dumbledore's office where her mother had swept her up into a hug that _hurt_ it was so tight, but had been the first time in months that she had felt the slightest hint of warmth. Both her parents had cried tears of relief. Her recovery began, hard as it was on everyone, but they all supported her. They even spent money they didn't really have to take her to Egypt to see Bill.

Bill, who was now holding her up as she sat at a precarious angle on a chair.

"Ginny? Ginevra!" He gave her a shake.

"Don't call me that," she replied mechanically.

He forced a chuckle, looking only mildly relieved. "You alright? You kind of zoned out and you're looking a bit peaky."

She nodded meekly. He had broken her out of the memories she had been trapped in, but the emotions they evoked still lingered.

He hadn't been convinced. "Maybe we should get you some tea?" Bill suggested, concern heavy in his features. He looked at her more closely, "You look worse than I thought. Have you been using those potions again?" She wanted to ask how he knew about that, but he continued, "When was the last time you ate?"

Not wanting to get into how terrible things actually were lately or admit that she indeed had been using the mild glamour potions Fred and George made for her all those years ago, she simply said, "Some tea sounds good right now, actually. Let's go."

As they exited, he said from behind her, "Look, it may not even matter. You're a minor, so Mum and Dad would have to approve first. Knowing Mum, she'd never allow it. There's no need to worry, okay?"

Ginny let out a choking sound as a chill ran through her. It was all she could manage. _Bill has no idea, _she thought. _This is all on me. _

Bill was right. Her mother would be against this and would be livid at the thought. Her father would be heartbroken. Her brothers may even feel betrayed and believe she was just being ambitious like Percy. After all this time, would Tom finally succeed in forcing her to do something to completely isolate her from her family?

Out of nowhere, she heard Harry's voice say, "Ginny?" and felt his hands on her shoulders. She was staring into his green eyes, their vivid color slightly obscured by his wiry glasses, and she felt she was truly eleven again, waking up in the Chamber. It had been over three years since Tom had tried and failed, but now she was preparing to potentially do the job for him to stop his take-over of the Wizarding world. It was so much worse now, because it would be her own choice.

Except, did she really have a choice? She already knew she would have to do this. The Malfoys and Lestranges would win if they petitioned for the right to the Black title. Aside from the fortune they would no doubt spend promoting Tom's twisted agenda, they would also gain the Wizengamot seat that would allow them to control other votes. Between the power of the three families, they would control the entire governing body. She knew they couldn't be allowed to have all that power.

She just didn't know exactly how much stopping it would cost her.

"Gin," she heard again, "are you alright?" Harry said it softly, reinforcing the memory she was trying to pull out of. Then much harsher, "What happened?"

Bill responded evasively. "We were just talking about some… complicated decisions."

"What did you say to her?" Harry questioned her brother accusingly, his strong hands tightening roughly on her shoulders. Perversely, the physical discomfort toned down her upset; Harry had never before been rough with her, especially not in the Chamber, and it helped to differentiate the memory from reality. It probably didn't help that the hallways in Grimmauld Place were about as dark as the Chamber had been.

"I - ," Bill started defensively. She didn't let him finish.

"Harry. It's alright," she said, fully coming back to the present. They were all still standing in the hall outside the study, the boys in an odd defensive configuration around her. "It's not… it's not Bill's fault. I just- I realized I don't have a choice. I- I want to stay a Weasley, but I just don't have a _choice_," she voiced in frustration._ "_I _have to_-"

Bill interrupted, "Ginny, I didn't-".

"You were talking about marriage?!" Harry's outburst surprised Bill into silence. He looked at Harry in confusion and the younger boy paled, minus the slight blush on his cheeks. "I didn't realize you'd been thinking about that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We don't- I wouldn't… I would never pressure you, Gin. You can stay a Weasley. We don't have to ever get married if you don't want to. Or we could get married and you could keep your name. Do Wizards do that? I know that muggles can, but that's not important right now. You know it will always be your choice, I prom-"

Bill cut off his rambling by stepping closer to her and placing his hand on her arm. _Why did they both insist on touching her? _"We weren't talking about marriage, Harry. Why would you two get married anyway? Is there something I need to know?"

Harry had taken a step back and dropped his hands when Bill stepped forward, cheeks bright red and slightly winded from the rush of words he had so quickly delivered, looking completely perplexed. Despite everything, Ginny found the expression comical.

Suddenly, the absurdity broke through her panic and she laughed. Sure, it was hysterical laughter, the kind that hinted at madness, but it broke the tension effectively.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a relieved sigh as she composed herself. She gave his arm a grateful squeeze.

"You're welcome?" He was still looking massively uncomfortable, as well as confused, and shifting around while shooting uneasy looks at Bill.

Turning to her brother, she said, "If you knew the circumstances, you'd understand. There are several things I wanted to talk to you about, not just the inheritance." Reality was setting in once again; she could feel its weight settling on her. _Just focus on one task at a time, _she thought as she envisioned her mental checklist. Deciding the training took priority, she gestured to Harry. "You should be part of this discussion too."

He looked apprehensive but acquiesced when she gave him a meaningful look.

They trooped back into the study silently. _Again, _she thought with an eye roll.

"What were you talking about with a name change, if it wasn't marriage?" Harry asked cautiously.

Ginny sighed, not wanting to talk about it. She knew, however, that they were about to discuss something Harry was just as, if not more, reticent to talk about, and she understood that maybe he needed this. He was always so selfless when it came to everyone else - hadn't he immediately offered to do whatever she wanted, including giving up his only chance at making a family of his own, when he assumed she was upset at the thought of marrying him? - that she figured she could do this for him.

"The gist of it is that while I inherited everything Sirius had taken ownership of, the greater family assets of the Blacks need to be claimed by me at Gringotts if I want to seize them, like the Black family vaults and the Wizengamot seat. If I don't, then the Malfoys or Lestranges may try to do so," Harry's face twisted with hatred and she nodded in understanding. "I don't want that to happen either. Actually, I have no intention of letting that happen," she clarified, letting Harry's clear detestation of the idea and his relief at her pronouncement fill her with conviction. "The problem is that I have to become a Black in order to do so."

Harry's face was a mask of confusion, "It's just a name change, isn't it? You'll still be a Weasley. Your family would never abandon you over your name, Gin."

His reassurance warmed her, the uncertainties that had been preying on the weakest parts of her losing some of their hold. She gave him a grateful smile.

It was clear he didn't understand the full consequences for her of becoming a Black, but she couldn't blame him for that. He had grown up with muggles, _awful_ _muggles_ who wouldn't have explained how family magic worked even if they knew.

Bill spoke up, "It's a bit more complicated than that. Bloodlines actually do matter in the wizarding world." She noticed as Harry's eyes went wide with surprise before narrowing at Bill. She elbowed her brother. "Ow- damnit, Ginny. What the hell?"

She ignored him, focusing on Harry. "He didn't mean it like _that. _Not the way the pure-blood supremacists spout."

"Oh," Bill let out in surprise, turning to Harry quickly. "No, of course not. They've gone and twisted it all around to fit their agenda. Bloodlines don't make someone better or superior to anyone else. It's more that families are connected through family magic passed on by blood. Ginny has enough of the Black family blood that she can claim the title and receive the full Black family magic through Mum's side, but she has to give up the family magic she got from Dad, that of the Weasley's."

Harry was no longer looking at Bill with suspicion, but he still posed his question to her. "I still don't quite understand what that means. What is the difference in family magic?"

"It's the source of our magic. Some of it comes from our mothers and some from our fathers. Different families have different magical strengths or gifts. For instance, the Blacks have a large capacity for magical regeneration."

"Magical regeneration?" He asked skeptically, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes. The ability to overcome damage to one's magic. It's probably largely what helped Sirius maintain his magic after so long spent in the presence of the Dementors. He always claimed it was knowing he was innocent, but that really just kept him sane. His magic was spared by the Black family gift. Mum has it too, it's how she was able to have so many children without losing any of her magical strength," Ginny explained. She didn't mention that it was also what allowed her to heal after Tom had taken so much from her in her first year.

Poor Harry looked only more confused. Bill shot him a look of understanding that Ginny herself certainly didn't understand. "I was confused the first time Dad mentioned it too. They don't get too much into what pregnancy is like for witches in school, but apparently the baby pulls magic from the mother. It's why so few magical families have more than one or two children. Surely you've noticed how odd a family of our size is in the wizarding world?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "Even those purebloods who are willing to try, sometimes the mothers just don't have enough magical reserves. There's a theory that that's why the inbred purebloods have squibs, because there is too much shared magic between the parents to produce a new magical being."

Harry nodded, eyes glazed in intense thought, though his cheeks were slightly pink from discussing pregnancy. "I guess that makes sense. I just never thought about it... there are families of all different sizes in the muggle world, and they don't have anything like that to deal with." He paused, face scrunched in thought.

Inspiration lit Bill's eyes. "Think about it in terms of muggle genetics. Do you know anything about that?"

"A bit," Harry replied. Ginny had heard this theory before, so she nodded along too.

"Well, I once had a muggleborn girlfriend who had a theory about that," Bill smiled wistfully. She had been a good girl, but she wanted to start a family right away while Bill had wanted to travel. They split up amicably and she had married a wonderful man less than a year later, Ginny knew. "She mentioned once that genetics supported it. Think about it, you look just like your father with your mother's eyes. Those were inherited through your… what do they call genetic material? G- no, B, or was it D? There's some acronym for it."

"DNA?" Harry offered helpfully.

Bill snapped his fingers. "That was it, and you get half from each parent."

"Right, twenty-three chromosomes from each."

"That's still so weird," Bill said it in a distracted sort of wonderment. "Healers describe it very differently." He shook his head again, refocusing. "Anyway, so it's like that, except with magical traits and tendencies. Giving up the Weasley heritage means severing the magical line tying you to those traits. Whether or not each trait shows doesn't really matter, you're still carrying it and can pass it down, same as physical traits. For instance, even though you don't have red hair, the possibility could still be there in your DNA for your children because your mother did."

Ginny caught when Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. They both blushed. Much as they avoided the hippogriff in the room, the knowledge that they may end up married one day was still ever-present. She saw Bill had noticed and pleaded with her eyes, begging him not to ask right now.

Harry helped her divert Bill's attention. "So, you said our magic comes from the blending of family magic in our bloodline? But that doesn't make sense… what about muggleborns?"

"Ah," Bill said knowingly. "You're quick. Most people take a bit longer to get there. Most of what we just talked about is theory, though it's definitely true that certain gifts run in certain bloodlines. That theory based heredity of magical _traits _on genetics, but her theory on muggleborns was based on how magic itself exists and is passed along. She theorized that magic itself was just another type of energy and must be subject to the law of conservation of energy."

"Energy can neither be created nor destroyed," Harry said promptly.

"That's right. So given that, what happens when the last of a wizarding bloodline dies and there is no one willing or able to claim it?"

"It goes to a muggle child?" Harry asked, clearly intrigued. He thought for a moment, turning it over. "How is that decided? What directs the magic?"

It suddenly occurred to Ginny that most people didn't give Harry enough credit for his intellect. Certainly, everyone knew he was clever and capable of putting together clues, but no one ever seemed to recognize his desire to understand and his quick ability to do so.

Bill nodded enthusiastically. "That's the idea. While magic is tied to the soul, which moves on after death, it is not what solely makes it - magic is tied to our bodies as well. Look at what can be done through blood." Ginny avoided looking at Harry, the betrothal coming to mind, though she knew that he had other experience with such things. Voldemort's rebirth must have come to Bill's mind as well, because he hurried to continue. "She thought that the unsecured magic left behind latched onto muggle children who had the physical potential to handle it, in order to keep the magic going," Bill explained.

"That's really interesting," Harry said in wonder, clearly wrapped up in the thought. His mother had been a muggleborn, Ginny knew, and she wondered if his thoughts were revolved around why magic itself had chosen her.

Bill's belief in the theory shown through, though he tried to act nonchalant when he clarified, "It was just her theory, but she had research to back it up. For instance, certain gifts that belonged to families that have died out have been found again in lines that started with a muggleborn."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "How do you know so much about this? Not just the theories, but… all of it? I wouldn't think there would be much use for it in curse-breaking," he questioned.

Bill looked uncomfortable. "You'd be surprised," he said vaguely.

A memory came to mind and she understood Bill's reticence. Ginny thought that she and Harry were offering enough personal information, however, that Harry deserved transparency in return. She piped up, "Bill was approached by Mum's childless uncle about accepting the mantle of the Prewitt family, but he didn't want it."

Bill sent her a look of betrayal. "How do you even know about that? You were what, five then?"

"Seven, you prat."

"Really, you were seven then? Merlin, you were a small thing. Still are actually," he replied teasingly.

Ginny sent him a warning look. "Careful now, Bill. You didn't think I was too small to learn the Bat-Bogey Hex when you taught me that summer, and I've only gotten better since then."

"So I've heard," Bill replied, laughter in his voice. "From a rather surprising source."

"Oh?" She inquired.

"Fleur Delacour," Bill said with a smile.

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. He looked between Ginny and Bill. "When did you talk to her? Is she working for Gringotts now?" He turned back toward her. "And how does she know what you can do? I've never even witnessed it."

Bill laughed. "The way I heard it-"

Ginny cut him off in a huff, crossing her arms in annoyance. "Oh, I'll bet Phlegm couldn't wait to tell you about the crazy little girl-"

Bill laughed at the nickname, but spoke over her before she could get too far into her rant, "_Actually_, Fleur admitted to speaking poorly of Harry and said that you overheard and threatened her." He grew serious, "She also admitted that she laughed at you and insinuated that 'a silly little girl' couldn't pose a threat to a Triwizard Champion." Ginny _hated _that phrase- she could always hear the echo of Tom's voice saying it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry's wince and wondered if it he felt similarly. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but snapped it shut when Bill smirked and said, "That was until she had bats pouring out of her own nose." Harry chuckled.

Ginny still felt put out, though. "She deserved it," she insisted.

Bill nodded, growing serious. "She agrees with you actually. She said it was very humbling, and she hasn't forgotten that lesson." He gave her a very serious look. "Please remember that next time you see her. She'd like to apologize, and I would really appreciate it if you'd let her."

"Why would I see her again? And what does it matter to you?" Ginny interrogated, narrowing her eyes at her brother, before realization dawned. She groaned loudly. "No! You've got to be kidding me, Bill. _Her_?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Ginny. Just give her a chance."

Harry was silent beside her, seemingly in thought, with a slight grin on his face. It annoyed her even more.

Ginny was still scowling at her brother, but it softened the longer she looked when she saw how happy he was. Thinking back, it was the first time in nearly seven years that she had seen Bill not look sad at the mention of his ex-girlfriend, so Fleur must have been good for him. "Fine. I'll play nice with your snobby little girlfriend." _That doesn't mean I have to like her, however,_ she added silently.

"Fiancee, actually. I asked her to marry me last night. I was going to tell everyone tonight, but…"

Harry quickly said, "Congratulations, Bill. That's great." Ginny didn't think it was all that sincere, just a knee-jerk reaction, but he didn't look like he was lying either. He caught her eye and gave her a look that indicated she should say something.

Ginny looked back at her brother and sighed in resignation. It really wasn't her business, so long as Bill was happy. She still felt some apprehension, the memory of how dismissive Fleur had been of both her and Harry fresh in her mind, but she knew that people could change. After a long moment, she nodded at her brother.

He smiled in return and said, "Thank you." He looked down at his watch. "Well, I've got to be going. I'm already late and soothing a pissed off part-Veela is not what I had in mind for tonight. Better not make it any worse."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious? I didn't get to discuss _anything_ that I needed to! We really do need to talk to you, Bill. It's important."

There was a new urgency in him when he checked his watch again. "Look, I was supposed to bring Fleur here for the announcement - yes, she's been told the secret, she joined the Order last month - and if I don't show up, she will come here eventually. Do you want to deal with that tonight?"

Ginny hesitated, but finally shook her head. "No, I guess not. It's already been a very long day." She sighed and looked over at Harry. He didn't seem to want to force the issue at the moment either, but… the sooner he started training, the more prepared he would be when the time came. Who knew when that could happen? Did they have any time to waste?

He seemed to understand and gave her a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Gin. It'll hold for one night." He turned to Bill. "That is, if you can come back tomorrow? It probably shouldn't wait longer than that." He peeked at Ginny, looking for approval. It soothed her nerves to realize how in sync they had come to be in such a short time.

"Sounds good, Harry. I'll be back after work tomorrow." He offered his hand and then turned back to her. "Think about what we talked about for the night and then get back to me. We'll set something up with Gringotts." He gave her a loving hug and kissed her forehead as he pulled back. She smiled at him.

Her expression quickly morphed into a scowl when he ruffled her hair, messing it up something fierce, before making a quick escape.

"Damn it, Bill!" she called after him, her hands flying up to her head to assess the damage.

When she tried to run her fingers through her long hair to fix it, one of the charms from her bracelet got stuck. By feel, she could tell it wasn't the quaffle that Sirius had given her for Christmas or even the guitar, as one would expect. Instead, it was the flaming phoenix encased in glass, the one meant to represent her.

She struggled for a moment, not wanting to rip any of her hair out but also not wanting to damage the charm. If should just _see _what she was doing, it would be so much easier. To her surprise, Harry stepped forward and reached out, taking over and gently removing the tangled hairs one by one.

She stilled, waiting patiently while he worked. She quietly thanked him.

He hummed a response and finished quickly. His hands lingered though and he stroked the phoenix charm. Without looking up, he quietly asked, "What's the significance of the charm?"

She paused and guardedly looked him over, before deciding to be honest. "It was from Sirius, for my birthday last summer."

It had been the only gift she had received on her actual birthday last year - their mail was still being screened and had been arriving a day later than it should have all summer, and everyone else in residence was so worried about Harry's trial that they had forgotten until the following day when gifts arrived with the mail. Ginny hadn't been angry with any of them for it - Voldemort had just returned to power and everyone was in a tailspin it seemed - but it had meant so much to her that Sirius had not only remembered, but given her something so thoughtful.

She felt moisture gather in her eyes at the memory. She blinked them away quickly and plastered a mask on her face, though she knew her hands were shaking ever so slightly. _Focus on the best part. _

"He said I was like a phoenix... grown and burned, then risen from the ashes." Her lips twisted into a wistful smile, her voice laden with fondness. _At least you have these things to remember him by. It could be much worse,_ she reminded herself. She realized Harry must have had very few small momentos like she had from Sirius, aside from whatever he left behind for him. This stirred an idea.

"Well, since Bill bailed, you're welcome to borrow this and head up to Sirius's room if you'd like." They had both locked their things back up this morning before heading out of the room, so she knew he hadn't had a chance to go through any more of it since last night; he had told her he hadn't gotten very far to begin with before falling asleep.

"You're not coming?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head no. "I'm going to go down and help Mum with dinner. I know it'll be done very soon at this point and I won't be much help, but I'd still like to mend some fences after yesterday."

He looked disappointed. He probably felt the same apprehension she felt about going through her things, that mix of excitement and fear that almost paralyzed her. He didn't try to persuade her otherwise, however.

"I guess I'll do that," he said, sounding less than enthusiastic and reaching out.

It felt like a physical pain, removing the bracelet. It had been a comfort to her for so long that she felt naked and exposed without it. She wondered if she should have just removed the charm, but she was too afraid it would get lost - not that she didn't trust Harry with it. She was sure it was just as important to him that they be able to access that box.

Harry must have noticed, because he said, "You know what? You're right, there isn't much time before dinner. It's probably best if I wait." He wasn't looking at her and was rubbing the back of his neck. She wanted to roll her eyes at his tells or maybe warn him that she wasn't fragile, but all she felt was grateful at the moment.

Since he was trying to be subtle, she let him. She smiled and nodded. "You're probably right. We'll have time later."

He smiled a bit nervously, relief obvious in his face. He glanced at the door to the master bedroom. "I think I'll just visit with Buckbeak for a bit. I'm sure he'd like the company." He met her eyes again, a conflicting mix of light and nervousness in his eyes that Ginny didn't understand. "Save me a seat at dinner?"

She blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and smiled brightly. "Sure, Harry. See you then."

He made no move to head to Buckbeak as she turned to go. She felt his eyes on her as she left.

It was still surprising how much he seemed to want to be around her. Their surprise meeting last night had started out so awkwardly, but they had quickly broken through it with just a little honesty on her part.

She had said much more than intended in her exhausted ramblings, however. _Merlin_, she had even told him she _loved_ him. Of course, it was true, but in the platonic, familial sense - she had long since buried her old crush - but she knew he wasn't accustomed to hearing the phrase and had expected him to be much weirder about it. It was odd that he hadn't put as much distance as possible between them after that.

_It's been a weird day,_ she thought, deciding not to worry about any of it. None of that was in her control right now. All she could do at the moment was focus on how to smooth things over with her mother without actually having to talk about it. She knew she had behaved poorly yesterday, but still felt somewhat justified. It would be a fine line to walk.

Her mother was already hard at work, and almost done by the looks of it, when Ginny arrived.

Still, Ginny smiled brightly and said, "Hi, Mum! Need some help?"

Her mother smiled weakly in return and accepted. Her distraction was obvious as she absently directed Ginny on what to do.

"Bill told me about what you discussed," she said without preamble. Ginny panicked for a moment, wondering how her mother was going to react. Helping with dinner was supposed to smooth some of the damage their relationship had taken, not create more hurt. She braced herself, only to be surprised when her mother's eyes were full of compassion as she laid a tender hand on her cheek. _What?_ "We love you, Ginny dear. Your father and I knew it was a possibility as soon as we saw the will and we talked about it last night. We hope you know that you'll always be our daughter, no matter what name you wear."

_Oh. _Ginny felt her eyes tear up in response.

"You're sure?" she whispered.

Her mother nodded before pulling her hand back and turning away, busying herself with the food. "We think you should do it, actually. The Blacks are owed fealty by a number of families-"

"Dark families," Ginny interjected. She shivered, "I don't want any kind of connections with those families, Mum."

Her mother ignored her, back still turned. "Families who won't be able to do you any direct harm because of that fealty." She turned back around to look Ginny in the eye. The wetness had pooled over and left tracks down her cheeks. "The Dolohovs are one such family, did you know that?"

Ginny shook her head in the negative, fully understanding the mention. Her mother's twin brothers, Uncles Gideon and Fabian, had died in the first war, slain by Antonin Dolohov.

"I knew about the The Malfoys and Lestranges, though," she replied quietly, thinking of the ways those two families alone had hurt her. The decision Lucius Malfoy made to slip her that diary had served to shape her entire life for years and was the catalyst for what now shaped her future. Bellatrix's murder of Sirius had broken her heart and she was only beginning to see the repercussions of his death. Focusing, she sighed. "I know it's the right thing to do, it's just…" She shrugged helplessly.

Her mother hugged her tightly in response. "The right thing can be hard to do. This war will force all of us to do things we never thought we would." Ginny understood that her mother was thinking of her own decision to go ahead with the betrothal and gave her a quick squeeze of understanding. Her mother squeezed back once more, whispering in her ear, "You've always been strong, Ginny. No matter how difficult, we have faith that you can do this."

Her mother's unconditional love soothed her anxiety. For the greater good, she would become Ginevra Black, but she would always have the love of the Weasleys.


	9. Chapter 8

Ginny came to fetch him a short time later. In her absence, he had lavished praise and attention on Buckbeak, who had stayed close to his side and watched over him as he had his breakdown last night. Harry knew Sirius had been Buckbeak's only companion for a time and it felt like the creature had been grieving with him. Both releasing all that pent up sadness and feeling like he was not alone in it had helped him greatly, and Harry was determined not to forget that; he intended to keep the creature company often. It was comforting in a strange way that was second only to being in Ginny's presence.

Harry felt he had very quickly adjusted to the fact that he was physically attracted to Ginny. In fact, now that he had seen what was hidden beneath her robes when they had been at school, he would have to say that he'd be more concerned if he _wasn't _sexually attracted to her. He still felt bad for having overlooked it until now and his seeming inability to keep his eyes off her, but his newest revelation helped alleviate the guilt. As the day passed, he had come to realize he was not just attracted to her physically, but flat out attracted to her all around.

He had been worried and uncomfortable after wanking to thoughts of her in the shower. After that finish, there had been no way for him to deny it had been her in the fantasy. Embarrassed and ashamed, he had panicked over how he was going to avoid her. She had said she was heading down to the kitchen to help her mother, so he headed for Buckbeak hoping to buy time in order to sort himself out. Instead, he had walked right into her, almost knocking her over.

Except, she hadn't reacted at all - not when he had to reach out and prevent her from falling over, nor when he repeatedly asked her what was wrong. The panic he felt taking in her vacant and pale expression far overshadowed his negative feelings regarding his shower activities. All that mattered then was figuring out what had happened to her and doing whatever he could to fix it.

There had been more embarrassment in the subsequent conversation, but it enabled him to all but forget his earlier issue. How could he focus on that when he was marveling at the strength of Ginny's character? She was incredible.

He couldn't begin to fathom the decision she had been asked to make. Now that he knew how he had gotten his magic, that they provided a direct link to his parents, he couldn't imagine giving up his father's magic for anything. Of course, he _would_ if it came to it, but the prophecy and Voldemort's defeat lay solely on his shoulders and he didn't have the luxury of being selfish. Ginny didn't have the fate of the wizarding world bearing down on her, yet she was willing to give up a significant part of her magical heritage to fight the good fight.

Harry didn't know how he possibly could have been unaware of the bravery and selflessness she possessed. It wasn't just the big things, either. As funny as the story about Fleur had been to Harry - she had been dismissive at first, but had treated him much better by the end of the tournament - it was glaringly obvious to him that Ginny was still rather upset about the whole thing. Despite this, she had been willing to accept how her brother felt and promised to play nice with a woman she clearly did not want anything to do with. He admired that quiet selflessness too.

The more time he spent with her, the more he admired her, he was finding. It was a relief, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it made him feel less like a cad when he stared at her. Moments like now, for instance.

At present, he was watching her backside sway pleasantly as she led him down to the kitchen. He didn't feel nearly as guilty about it as he would have earlier, because he had stared at her face and the rest of her just as intently before she had turned around. In fact, he had been looking at her so intently he had surprised even himself by how much he had noticed.

There was a slight pinkness to her face that he couldn't quite describe; her eyes and nose weren't the swollen red of a thorough cry, but it looked like she might have been on the verge earlier. He wondered, at first, if that meant things had gone poorly with her mother but didn't have a chance to ask before she was beckoning him from the hall. It was there that he really observed the difference.

Harry had noted that every time she left the privacy of the study, her demeanor shifted so that she looked for all the world to see as if she were perfectly composed. When they left this time her shoulders were still back, but the posture lacked its former stiffness. He hadn't recognized the effort she had been putting into the pose until it was gone. There was an easiness to her now, from the tilt of her head to the way she bounced on the balls of her feet with each step, that made him feel relief. _Maybe that means it went well._

The walk down to the kitchen had passed in silence, Harry having been lost in thought. He only became aware of his surroundings again when Ginny stopped suddenly on the first floor, pulling him into the entrance hall. There was a new nervousness to her mannerisms that had him feeling cautious, so he performed a cursory examination of the hall looking for any signs that something was amiss.

He quickly realized what was missing; the portrait of Sirius's horrible mother was gone, nothing but a damaged section of the hideous wallpaper remaining. He gaped at it.

Ginny cleared her throat and he turned his attention to her silently. She looked rather nervous, her hands behind her back as she looked between the wall and him.

"I wanted to talk to you about this before we head down there, as I'm sure someone will ask." She looked at the floor. "I talked to Kreacher earlier… I'd been thinking about what you said - about what Dumbledore said about Sirius and Kreacher - and I just didn't want to repeat his mistakes." She sighed heavily and bit her lip, looking conflicted.

Harry wished she wouldn't. He didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to think about any of it, and especially didn't want to deal with it when it was making her upset - she had seemed so carefree just moments ago.

Hoping to be able to just move on, he said, "Gin, it's fine. Whatever you did…"

She shook her head in the negative, determined to have the conversation it seemed. He wanted to beg her not to but kept quiet. _Maybe she'll feel better once it's out._

"I was nice to him. I _apologized,_" she sounded a strange mixture of disgust, surprise, and sadness. Harry didn't much like the thought either. "I - he did this horrible thing and I hate him for it, but can he really be blamed? This is all he knows. He's never been allowed to think any other way, and Sirius hated him." He knew she was right, but hated to admit it. The pained look on her face made him feel a little better though, because he knew she wasn't saying these things lightly. "I did what needed to be done to make sure nothing like that ever happens again… but he was just so sad and pathetic, honestly, that I told him he could have the portrait for himself if he could get it off. Clearly, he succeeded."

Skirting the emotional aspect of it all, Harry asked, "How are you so sure? Before… well, we never thought Kreacher would or could do that. How do you know it's safe now?"

"I gave him very clear orders that he shouldn't be able to work around." Her face shifted to something like amazement. "Honestly, I'm not sure anymore that he would even try to find a loophole even if he could. He actually called me Mistress Ginevra. He's never used my name before."

Harry nodded. He couldn't remember the elf ever having called Sirius by his name either. It was a good sign, at least. While Harry would never consider anything foolproof anymore, he also chose to trust Ginny's judgment if she believed that she had been comprehensive in her orders.

She gave him a long searching look, apprehension in her eyes, before nodding and heading in the direction of the kitchen. He wanted to stop her and say something reassuring, but his mind couldn't conjure anything decent at the moment. It was a mass of conflicted thoughts and feelings regarding his godfather and the rotten old elf.

As he watched her walk, Harry wished they could go back to before the heaviness of discussing Kreacher and Sirius. He could tell by the way she was moving, stiff and measured, that her nerves had returned in force now. Given the way she slowed as she came to the bottom of the stairs leading to the kitchen, he had a decent guess that it wasn't just because of the conversation they had just had.

He stopped her outside the door and asked quietly, "You okay?"

She paused and nodded, closing her eyes as she inhaled and exhaled once deeply. Harry watched curiously as she composed herself; the underlying tension in her body was still there, but she purposefully loosened her shoulders and smoothed the worry away from her expression.

"I'm good. Let's go!" She smiled at him, bright but fake. He still probably would've been fooled if he hadn't seen the transformation for himself.

Just before they opened the door, Mrs. Weasley's stern tones reached his ears. They appeared to have caught the tail-end of her lecturing the occupants of the kitchen, "...and _not a single one_ of you will say _anything _to them about the betrothal. Is that understood?"

He heard the disgruntled confirmations of Ron, Hermione, and the twins. The boys sounded as if someone had just stolen their new toy, but relented quickly. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who put up the most fight. "But I did all sorts of research today. Ginny asked -", she made her case, but her request was shot down by Mrs. Weasley, who insisted that their family dinner would not be clouded by such discussion and that it could wait. "Oh, well, I suppose we can talk after dinner…" Hermione trailed off, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

Ginny shook with silent laughter beside him, her face split into a wide, carefree smile that was genuine this time. His heart-rate spiked at sight, but he smiled back, quite relieved himself that he wouldn't have to deal with interrogations or teasing of any kind.

An idea hit. "Hey, how many times do you think we can goad the twins before they break your mother's edict and make a comment?"

Her eyes danced. "It depends on what she said before we started listening, but I bet I can get more in than you can."

He chuckled at her competitiveness and shook his head. "No bet. You grew up learning from the twins - I wouldn't stand a chance."

She laughed fully, tossing her head back and sending a wave her flowery scent in his direction. It smelled so good that he almost closed his eyes, but then he would have missed the way the shades of red in her hair shifted as she vibrated with laughter. Still chuckling, she pushed the door open and led him into the kitchen where the others were waiting.

The occupants of the kitchen all stared at the sound of Ginny's mirth. She hardly batted an eye, giving them all a casual greeting before making her way over to greet her father, who was still wearing his traveling cloak and had apparently just arrived back from the Ministry. Harry blushed slightly, realizing that he was smiling widely as well and avoided the eyes of his best friends as he followed Ginny in greeting the new arrivals.

When Ginny settled into the seat beside George, he sat down on her other side. She sent him a questioning look because his placement had left the table unbalanced, with the twins, Ginny and him on one side and only Ron and Hermione on the other, with her parents at the head. He looked at the twins - who already looked like they desperately wanted to comment - pointedly and winked at her. She smiled broadly in return. His friends caught the gesture as well, Ron doing his best to contain his smile while Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. It wasn't why he truly wanted to sit with her, but it was a good excuse.

Dinner passed interestingly... well, dinner passed as normally as a Weasley dinner could. Ginny was right, in that the disappearance of Walburga Black's portrait was brought up. The topic passed rather quickly, but Harry was still grateful that Ginny had given him an advanced warning and that he was able to listen to the discussion about Kreacher without showing any emotion. There had been a slight admonishment from Hermione that caused Ginny to calmly defend her treatment of Kreacher - Harry spoke up in her support and the conversation was dropped. For the most part, the conversation was dominated by small talk, Quidditch, and compliments on the dinner spread.

It wasn't dinner that was interesting - it was that Ginny was interesting. He spent most of the time watching her, evaluating everything she did through newly opened eyes. The more he did, the more he noticed it.

She seemed to lie _a lot_ and happened to be excellent at it. She did it with such ease that he never would have caught most of the lies she told if he didn't have factual evidence to the contrary.

What surprised Harry though, was how often she lied for the benefit of others. She lied to her mother when asked if she had slept well by smiling cheerfully and saying she had (even though Harry knew she hadn't) because she knew her mother would fret otherwise. She lied to Ron when asked if she knew what had destroyed his new slippers by saying she had seen some mice recently (even though she and Harry had caught Crookshanks in his room just before Neville arrived earlier) because she didn't want him and Hermione to fight. Sometimes she lied for the fun of it, but that was almost for the sole purpose of goading the twins for their competition.

Beyond those instances, however, she was really rather honest. She never seemed to outright lie to those she trusted. As far as he could tell, she had been completely honest with Bill earlier, going so far as to speak poorly of his new fiancee to his face. She had even given her father an unguarded look and shrug when he quietly asked if she alright when she greeted him - his best guess was that she knew her father could handle the truth better than her mother.

_And I thought she always let people know what was on her mind_, Harry thought to himself as he remembered their fight last Christmas. While he had been correct that she always had something to say, he had come to realize more and more that she rarely showed people anything other than what she wanted them to see. It was a new experience for Harry to see her this way, mostly because he had never fallen into the latter category. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he still didn't.

The thought didn't sit well. It was probably true though - Neville had said she played things close to the chest. It was clear this was the case even with her family.

Harry couldn't quite understand her distance from them as he looked around the table and observed her trueborn and his makeshift family; it was a warm and loving picture they created- the way they goaded each other, smiled, laughed, and even yelled at each other without hate. He was grateful that he could be part of moments like these, but right now it made him long for Sirius more than ever. These people - this family - included him, but he was still somehow removed. He felt as if he was a part of their life because he was a part of Ron's - and Mrs. Weasley's habit of picking up strays - but Sirius had been just his.

Maybe it was that Sirius had needed him, something he had never really felt before. Sure, the Dursleys had benefited from his slave labor, but Petunia could have easily done it all herself had he not been there. The Weasley's were much the same; while they enjoyed his company and were happy to include him, he was an extra that they could be just as happy with or without. He viewed them as an indivisible unit that wasn't entirely whole when one of their members was missing, as evidenced by the constant tension Percy's absence had created.

The feeling of a hand on his arm - he would have known it was Ginny's even with his eyes closed, simply because her touch was comforting instead of startling - drew him from his melancholy thoughts. Her eyes were concerned, but she didn't voice her concerns over his distraction.

She leaned in a bit, enough for him to feel her breath as she spoke, and said lowly, "I think it might be best for us to hang around here for a bit, while everyone is forbidden from discussing the hippogriff in the room," her eyes danced mischievously at the thought of being able to avoid their friends' and family's questioning without being accused of avoiding everyone. "But I'll no doubt end up in Sirius's room tonight if you'd like to join me in going through some things."

There was a small part of his brain - the part that was linked directly to his dick, he decided - that jumped to all sorts of conclusions that she most definitely did not mean at the combination of that light in her eyes and the hushed words she said, but it was overshadowed by the larger part that was grateful and relieved by her plan. He could be around everyone without facing interrogation and have time to feel close to Sirius tonight in relative privacy.

He smiled gratefully and whispered, "Thank you."

She winked again and that small part of his brain got carried away at the image. He forced himself to laugh instead of blush and, remembering what Sirius had said, asked her, "How did you get so sly?"

She grinned widely and went to reply, but a crumpled napkin hit the side of her face. Harry let out a laugh at her insulted expression.

"Yeah, Ginny. How'd you turn out to be such a little sneak?" Fred asked, having been the one to throw the napkin. She threw it back.

"Imperturbing the door like that," George continued, shaking his head.

"Just when it was getting good too!" Fred said indignantly.

"Didn't get to hear anything," George said feigning sadness.

"And damaging our goods to boot!" Fred carried on with a dramatic flourish.

"Twice, no less!" George finished.

She lifted her nose in the air dramatically, "Well, it serves you right. You should've learned after the first time." She glared at them theatrically, "Plus, it was none of your business. Shame on you for eavesdropping in the first place."

The twins rolled their eyes in unison. George shoved her shoulder, knocking her into Harry who righted her. "Some sister you are, impeding our spying."

"Yeah," Fred said after swallowing a massive bite of food. "You know Mum never remembers to charm the door when she's upset."

"Oh, I know," she said smugly. "Why do you think I always picked a fight with her before meetings?"

"Now, that's a sister we can be proud of," George clapped her on the back.

"Here, here," Fred replied raising his drink to her.

Harry leaned past her and clinked his glass of pumpkin juice with the twins'. George raised his brow, but Fred nodded approvingly, "Smart man, Potter, bowing down to your betrothed's prowess." Ginny met his eyes in amusement.

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley, who had just stood to gather the pudding, exclaimed. "I warned-" Her admonition was cut short by the arrival of Percy's owl Hermes. All conversation died as the owl flew directly to Ginny. She quickly and efficiently removed the letter while Harry provided it with some leftover bits of chicken as a reward.

Ginny nodded her thanks distractedly and began reading immediately. Harry leaned over to get a better look and was pleasantly surprised when she immediately angled the paper to allow him to read over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving the page. While Percy's impeccable penmanship was clear, the content was intentionally vague.

_My dear Ginevra,_

_I'm sorry this response is late, as I imagine you've already begun dinner. Unfortunately, I will be unable to accept Father's request that I join you tonight. Minister Fudge has sent me to Gringotts on behalf of one of his benefactors regarding a petition they would like to make for a recently deceased member of their extended family with no heirs. The particular goblin I'm dealing with tonight is in a rather black mood and it seems likely I will not be able to provide the Minister with any information until tomorrow morning. Despite the delay, I expect the matter will be handled within a day from when the Minister receives the news, as Cornelius has been having a rather frantic week and will likely want a matter such as this resolved as quickly as possible. _

_Please forgive me for my ramblings. It is so good to have reconnected with a member of the family that I have forgotten myself. I had forgotten for a time just how lucky we are to have been born into such an understanding and forgiving family - not many can say that their family will love them no matter where their life leads them. _

_You, dear sister, in particular, have the ability to go far, and I look forward to seeing the great things you will no doubt accomplish. Do not forget, however, that your time to buckle down and accept responsibility is fast approaching, and you must act quickly if you hope to do so. Bill has become quite successful in his own field, I have heard, and would be an excellent person to talk to regarding the direction in which you should take your future._

_With love,_

_Percy I. Weasley_

_Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic _

"That's odd," he murmured, just for her to hear. She turned to look at him, eyes questioning. "It's obvious he's talking about Sirius's will. Given that Bellatrix is wanted, it's probably Narcissa Malfoy that has made the bid for the Black family inheritance and that Percy found out that it could go to you instead. The only thing I don't understand is why is it so veiled?"

Her lips were slightly turned down at the corners, a worried crease between her brows. "This reads like the letters we would send from Hogwarts when Umbridge was screening our mail. His earlier letter was rather basic as well, though at the time I thought it was because he was begrudgingly helping. Now I think he's being watched, or he believes it's a possibility at least." She sighed, shoulders slightly slumped. "Though he did manage to effectively give me a warning without giving anything away to a potential spy. If they didn't already know, I doubt anyone would put it together."

"Oi! Stop whispering!" Ron ordered, sounding irritated. "We all want to know. What's Pompous Perfect Percy the Prefect want now? Still trying to warn us off Harry?" The last bit was spit out bitterly.

Ginny straightened out. "I actually reached out to Percy last night, asking for his help in preventing news of the betrothal from getting out. He accepted." Fred, George, and Ron were all looking at her like she was insane while Mrs. Weasley and Hermione beamed. Mr. Weasley had a rather guarded look on his face as if he feared to dare to hope that it could be true.

She focused on her father, sensing his apprehension. "The letter," she gestured to where Ron and Hermione were now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder reading, "is a veiled warning, indicating that Narcissa Malfoy is trying to seize the Black family inheritance. It looks like Fudge is going to grant it, though why he would do her any favors right now when her husband and sister are known Death Eaters is beyond me."

Her father nodded. "It actually does make sense. Fudge will likely be out of office within a fortnight and will lose his current level of protection. With the true loyalties of Narcissa's husband and sister exposed, he is more than likely terrified of making an enemy out of her."

Harry guessed that's what Percy's comment about the Minister's current troubles and the urgency with which he would handle the matter had been about. Based on everything he knew about Fudge, it wasn't surprising that the man would take the coward's way out. The scowl on Ginny's face said she agreed.

The letter was passed to the Weasley parents next. Mrs. Weasley's brow furrowed while Mr. Weasley frowned. "I haven't attempted to speak to Percy for quite some time…"

Ginny sighed. "I figured as much. I'm guessing it was an excuse for writing. Given the rest of the letter, it seems he has reason to believe he's being watched."

Mrs. Weasley's face was lined with worry as she reread the text before turning to her husband. In a small voice, she asked, "Do you think he's in trouble, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley had been rereading as well but shook his head negatively. He passed the letter on to the twins before replying pensively, "Not necessarily. I think he knows better than anyone the lengths the Ministry will go to and is being cautious. There is nothing here to signal that he needs help. It's possible he's just taking care to protect Ginny's secrets."

"So Narcissa Malfoy is trying to take control of the Black family assets? How can she even do that? Kreacher has been following Ginny's orders since we got here, so clearly the will Sirius left is valid," Fred said, looking up from the letter he and George were reading.

"Can the Ministry override it?" George tacked on.

Ginny piped up, "I don't believe the Ministry is aware that the will exists at all. I didn't tell Percy either. It seems Gringotts is aware of it and passed the knowledge on to him." She appeared perfectly composed, but Harry noticed the little tells that he hadn't known to look for before. The tenseness had returned and he could see that she was playing with her fingers below the table. Despite the fact that it wasn't about him, his nerves grew sympathetically, recognizing where the conversation was headed.

"I believe that is correct," Mr. Weasley added. He continued in a formal tone, "The Ministry isn't capable of overriding the designated heir if Gringotts has accepted the will as valid, as it appears they have, but there are certain customs that must be conformed to in order for the transition to be completed. If the inheriting party fails to do so, then the Ministry may designate another party as the recipient of the estate, so long as they are the closest blood relative petitioning for it." His back was straight, but there was a nervousness about him as he looked at Ginny, almost in apology.

The Weasley patriarch's overly technical explanation was nearly lost on Harry, who actually _knew_ what the man was saying without words, so it was no surprise that Ron, Hermione and the twins all looked confused.

Ron said, "Er, what?"

"I didn't inherit everything automatically. Receiving the full Black inheritance requires giving up the Weasley family magic and becoming a Black. What Dad is saying is that if I don't, then the ministry can declare Mrs. Malfoy the heir," Ginny explained.

Ron scoffed. "So that's what all his talk about your 'ability to go far' was about. Of course, Percy thinks you should do it." He shook his head in disbelief. "He'd sacrifice his family in a heartbeat for that kind of power."

Ginny shot her brother a dirty look. "A year ago, I might have agreed with you, but he just sent me a warning when he didn't have to. If he is being watched, he's risking a lot. I think that's earned him a little leniency."

Hermione said, "She's right, you know. It could put his whole career in jeopardy by delaying this information, and that's not something I ever thought we'd see. I think he's trying to make amends, with all that talk about forgiveness and being grateful for the family."

"He's still encouraging her to leave the family," Ron argued.

Knowing that the disapproving tone Ron had taken meant that he would surely say something negative without thinking and hurt Ginny, Harry spoke up. Strongly, but calm, he asked, "What's the alternative, Ron? Would you see the Malfoys control the Wizengamot proper?" Ron looked at him in shock. He felt some embarrassment now that the attention was on him, but he carried on in Ginny's defense, "Ginny wouldn't pull a Percy," he immediately felt bad for phrasing it like that in front of the Weasley parents but continued, "and make a decision like this based on ambition. She's brave and strong and loyal. She'll do what is right, not what is easy."

Harry would have sworn he felt the air shift as Ginny steeled herself and said plainly, "Harry's right. I don't want to, but I've thought about it and am going to do it. There is no other agreeable alternative."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her with a sad sort of approval. "As I told your sister, your father and I were aware of this and approve of her decision. As Lady Black, she will be safe from many of the darker families that have long-standing alliances with the Black family."

No one spoke for a time. To Harry, it seemed like a very long time as his body tensed in response to Ginny's nerves. Movement spotted in his periphery had him looking down- Ginny was picking furiously at her fingernails and one of them had started to bleed. He reached out and took her hand, encasing it in his before she could do any more damage to herself. She cast him a fleeting look full of surprise before schooling her features and placing her other hand over the top of his, giving it a squeeze.

Fred broke the silence first. It was not a good thing in Harry's opinion, as Ginny's hand tightened further around his at the sound. "I'm sorry, but am I the only person who has a problem with this?" He asked, looking around the table searchingly.

"No. I'm with you brother." George backed him up.

"_She _is going to become _Lady Black_?" he said dubiously. The lightness that Harry had been so happy to see in Ginny since dinner had dissipated when the reason for Percy's warning had been revealed, and now tenseness had settled back in Ginny's shoulders; he just barely suppressed the mad urge to rub her back until it was gone.

Harry hated both it and Fred for making it worse. He would never want to be at odds with any of the Weasley's, but if her brothers made this harder on her, he wouldn't take it lying down; he fully intended to support her.

"Preposterous!" George exclaimed. Beside him, Ginny's shoulders relaxed and her hand loosened, causing him to look at her in confusion. She was actually _grinning _at the twins, her eyes sparkling.

"I refuse to accept," Fred said resolutely.

"Seconded!" George proclaimed, his fist smacking the table like a gavel. His own grin started to break out when he met his sister's amused gaze. The icy anxiety that had been building in Harry's chest dissipated.

"You'll always be Ickle Gin-Gin to us!" They cried in unison. All three burst out laughing together, tears shimmering in Ginny's eyes. He had never before seen them call her "Gin-Gin" without her threatening to hex them, but this situation seemed to have changed that as the smile she now wore was so wide that it probably hurt her cheeks. She let go of Harry's hand and threw her arms around George, blowing Fred a kiss over his twin's shoulder.

Molly gave them an exasperated look, but there was relief in her eyes as well. The rest of the table joined in the merriment lightly. Harry laughed a bit himself, mostly in relief. Despite their outlandish ways, the twins had broken the moment and supported their sister. He had no rational reason for it, but he was grateful on her behalf.

Announcing the topic closed for now, Mrs. Weasley distributed the pudding and conversation returned to lighter topics. Harry followed Ginny's suggestion and hung around well after the meal had finished, using the opportunity to peacefully spend some time with his friends. He knew it was still safe under Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye as she cleaned up the remains of dinner and started on breakfast preparations; Harry suspected she lingered intentionally to keep an eye on her sons. Hermione excused herself to head to the library for more research shortly after they had finished, and Harry felt a bit bad for wanting to avoid her after seeing how dedicated she was to the task. Harry agreed to a game of Wizard's chess with Ron while Ginny brainstormed ideas for the twin's shop beside them - he shouldn't have been surprised that she was able to give the twins some ideas on how to work out the kinks on several items they were having trouble developing.

Eventually, though, Mrs. Weasley finished all her tasks and was ready to follow Mr. Weasley to bed - the man had already excused himself to have some downtime after work - and Harry grew a bit worried about the conversation he knew was to follow. He tried to think of a quick out that wouldn't include Ron or the twins following but was coming up blank. It was Ginny who offered him the solution.

"I should probably write to Bill and let him know I'll be at Gringotts tomorrow. Harry, do you think I could borrow Hedwig?" She voiced the question at a normal volume, quite unlike the quiet asides she'd been speaking to him in all night, so he figured she must have felt the same way he did.

"Sure," he agreed calmly, for there was nothing to gain by demonstrating to the Weasley brothers how eager he was to escape. "She's probably sleeping though, and she doesn't like being woken, so I'll get her for you." He ignored the funny look Ron gave him.

"Great." She turned to her brothers, bidding Fred and George farewell with an extra-large smile and indicating to Ron that she would see him in the morning, leaving without waiting for Harry. He wondered if he could get away with doing the same, but simply nodded at Ron and said his own farewell to the twins before making a quick escape.

Assuming she actually did need Hedwig, he fetched his owl before making his way to the study, knowing she'd be there. Sure enough, she was just signing her name on a scroll of parchment to Bill. When she looked up and smiled, he was surprised to see how exhausted she suddenly looked. Were the lights in the kitchen really so low that couldn't see how bad the bags under her eyes were? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her how she could put on such an effective show when she was feeling this way, but she spoke first.

Looking back down at her fingers as they traced the roll of parchment, she asked quietly, "What's one of our family dinners like for you?"

His brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Well," she began, looking up at him for only a brief moment before dropping her eyes again, "You're as close as you can get to being a Weasley without actually being a blood relative. Tomorrow… I will be too. So, I'm just wondering, what's it like?"

Harry thought of how he had felt earlier at dinner - included but separate. _She's scared, _he thought, _I'm not about to tell her that._ It wasn't the same thing though. Her name would be different - _and her magic_, the cynic in him said - but she was born into that family, had grown up with them, and was firmly ensconced in the web of love they had between them all.

Gently, he said, "It's not the same, Gin," because he had no intention of lying to her. "No matter what, you'll always be a member of the family. That won't change."

She shook her head in denial.

He didn't quite understand her. She kept them all at a slight distance but seemed terrified of losing her status with them. Since they were alone, he voiced the question.

Her brown eyes latched onto his, looking large in her small face. Instead of answering the question, she said sounding slightly desperate, "We can feel each other - did you know that? It's nothing major… just an awareness. We just _know_ that each other are out there, really. It - I'm the youngest. That feeling of my brothers has been there my whole life... and I have no idea what to expect when it's gone."

Harry considered that in slight awe as she busied herself attaching the letter to Hedwig and sending her off. He'd always been on his own. Would he have felt less isolated and scared growing up if he was able to feel that connection with someone else? Without a doubt, he knew he would. He almost felt jealous, until he remembered she would be losing that. He missed it without ever having had it, and she was practically being forced to give it up - something that had been an intricate part of her since she was born.

When she sat back down, her posture was slumped. There was nothing he could say besides, "I'm sorry."

She gave him a sad, tired approximation of a smile. "There's nothing to be done for it. It is what it is. I'm just… nervous, I guess."

"Understandable," he replied, sympathetic. "I can't even imagine what that's like."

She looked off with a wistful smile. "It's… comforting. Knowing they're out there." Her smile fell, "It was terrifying last Christmas when Dad was touch and go. I couldn't tell if I was imagining the feeling of him fading or not."

"Can you really feel all that?" He questioned, surprised that he had never heard about something so intense.

She colored slightly. "Probably not, in terms of a normal injury. But I heard later that Dad's heart stopped and they had to force the antivenom through his system with magic. I think I felt that and kept imagining that it was happening again. It's why I was so hard on Sirius. I was panicking."

Sensing an opening, he asked, "You're really close with your father, aren't you?"

"Yeah." There was a new warmth coloring her tone. "He's… he's loving and caring, but understanding - not overbearing like Mum can be, you know?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "I don't have to worry about him as much."

"Is that why you lie to them?"

He caught it as she transformed her face into one of innocence. "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, Gin. You lie more than the twins combined, except it's not malicious. It's more like you're holding back. Is it because you worry about them?" He pressed.

Her lips quirked. "Should I be worried? Are my skills slipping?"

He rolled his eyes and stared at her expectantly. She eyed him shrewdly in return, something turning over in her mind that he couldn't guess at, before giving her head a little shake.

"It's not that I worry about them knowing things. It's that they worry about me a lot because I'm the youngest or a girl or what have you." She shrugged, but the way lips flattened at the end had him thinking it was more. "It's best I keep anything unpleasant to myself and then no one has to worry."

She looked away and smoothed her hair with her hands, before slipping them under the desk. He wondered if he would find her picking at her nails again if he were to look. They were her nervous tells, though she was usually better at maintaining her composure. He knew her mother, and her brothers too, had worried over her after her first year and wondered if it was after that when she developed the habit of keeping things to herself.

The further he thought about the idea, the more it made sense actually. Not only about them worrying about her, but also in terms of protecting herself. She had nearly lost her life by revealing herself to Tom Riddle, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she did an about-face on the issue of sharing secrets. While he had no doubt that she trusted her family, their overbearing tendency to fret over her likely compounded the issue until it became a habit for her to keep everything in. As someone who was also frequently guilty of this type of behavior, he couldn't really judge her for it.

He didn't want her treating him like that though. Already, he had seen that she let her walls down slightly in his presence, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to keep anything from him for his sake or because of a lack of trust. They were partners now, and he wanted her to trust him to be there for her. He told her so.

She paused, weighing him in a similar fashion to how she had this morning when they discussed the prophecy. It occurred to him that he must have failed her terribly on a personal level for her to so quickly affirm that he would defeat Voldemort, yet have to assess if she could count on him. Instead of sinking into the guilt her pause had ignited, he hardened his resolution. He _would _be that for her if only she'd let him.

Her brown eyes softened and she smiled softly, genuinely. "I meant to thank you already, actually. I appreciated your support tonight. It really helped get me through all that, knowing that you were there to back me."

The sincere gratitude warmed him and settled the lingering disquiet today had caused. Things were only going to get harder and more complicated from here, but he finally felt like he was doing something right with her.


	10. Chapter 9

Ginny insisted that she should go speak to Hermione and see if her research had yielded anything. Harry almost asked to go with her, because it affected them both and he had hardly spoken to Hermione at all today outside of the near argument that morning. He stopped himself when he realized that maybe she wanted to speak to the older girl alone. After all, he had been practically forcing his company on her since they woke up.

The twins having headed back to the shop already, Ron was alone when he found him. To his surprise and relief, Ron didn't immediately launch into discussion about his predicament with Ginny. They did, however, talk about Percy and if he could be trusted.

Ron gaped at Harry's opinion. "You really think he can be trusted? That all should be forgiven," he snapped his fingers, "just like that?"

Harry considered it from Ron's point of view before answering. "Yes," he said firmly, to Ron's disbelief. "I do." he insisted. "He insulted me, not you, and your dad too, but I think your father is willing to forgive him if it means he comes back to the family, so you should as well. You're really lucky to have the family you have, mate. If Percy has finally realized that, then you shouldn't let anything get in the way." Ron's disbelief had faded into something more pensive, so he added quietly, "You never know what could happen with the war on."

Ron's eyes flashed to his in understanding before he quickly looked away and nodded. "I know that. I do - it's just that he's always acted like we weren't good enough for him. I've always wished I could've had more growing up than I did, but I never wanted to be anything other than a Weasley either."

"You have a good family," Harry said sincerely.

Ron's expression shifted into concern and sadness. His face pinched as he rubbed his chest. Without looking at Harry, he said, "I honestly can't imagine doing what she is." He quickly looked up at Harry and clarified, "Not in a bad way, mind you. I wasn't thinking earlier, with what I said. I know she's doing the right thing, just… it's going to hurt."

"You know she doesn't want to hurt anyone. If anything-"

"That's not what I meant, Harry," Ron cut him off, rubbing at his chest a bit more. "Severing that connection, it will hurt - physically hurt. When…" he swallowed convulsively, clearly struggling to get the words out, and Harry felt the familiar cold of anxiety rushing in his veins. "Ginny's first year, when she was in the Chamber, I could _feel_ it as her connection was dying, and it hurt, right here," he said, pointing at the spot he had been rubbing, as if it was now that he was feeling that pain, instead of just the memory. Harry felt a sick churning in his stomach. Ron was this distraught about the pain of nearly losing her, remembered over three years later, and Ginny was about to feel the loss of six brothers and her father. At best her connection to her mother would be cut to half of what it was too. Unbidden, the memory of how painful being held under the Cruciatus Curse was rose in his mind and he flinched away from it, turning his attention back to Ron.

His friend looked at him beseechingly, begging for understanding. "When I suddenly felt her slip away to almost nothing, I finally focused and realized that I had hardly felt her at all in a long time… the decrease had just been so subtle that… I just hadn't noticed," he said helplessly. "None of us did." Harry had never seen Ron looking so desolate. Even when Ginny was in the Chamber, there was the manic desperation of their mission that kept him from sinking into this level anguish. He continued, "She didn't even come rushing back when she woke up. She was _that _weak- so weak that it took a day or two. I could actually feel it as she came back, and I _knew _that we all fucked up badly if she was that far gone and no one noticed."

"I know," Harry sighed. He felt like he should have seen it too. He had seen how pale she was, how tired she looked, but he knew there was no point in thinking this way. "We were all just kids, Ron."

"Were we?" Ron challenged. "Fred and George were only a year younger than we are now, and Percy was even older than us. Mum and Dad should've noticed - or Bill or Charlie or anyone!" Ron tossed himself back onto his bed, throwing his hands up in frustration, before calming and shaking his head. "It just shouldn't have happened to her, you know?"

"Yeah, I do." Harry agreed. "But it's in the past. All we can do is move forward and try to be better," he added, thinking of all the ways he was trying to do just that.

Ron nodded his agreement and sat back upright on his bed. "I know I asked earlier, but do you think Ginny is alright? I mean, it's just huge and… is she going to be alright?"

He had to think about how to answer. He was slowly beginning to realize that the more Ginny shared with him, the more her secrets colored his opinions and the less he could share his thoughts unfiltered with his friends without violating her trust. It was a new phenomenon and would take some getting used to. Finally, he decided to avoid the question.

"Ginny's holding up. She's actually talking to Hermione right now, to see if she made any headway on researching the betrothal rite, so we can get a better idea of what to expect."

Ron popped up and gestured to the door. "What are we doing pissing around here then? Don't you want to know too? Come on."

Harry willingly followed, glad Ron had suggested it so that he now had an excuse to do what he had wanted to all along. Ron was knocking on the girls door a minute later, much to Hermione's surprise.

"Ron? Harry?" She stood with the door only half-open, making no move to let them in, and looked between them. "What's happened? You've never once come here before-"

"And you've _never_ knocked on my door, Ronald. Just barge right in all the time like you own the place!" Ginny called from behind the door in false outrage. Harry could picture her eyes twinkling with mischief as she said it, knowing it would rile her brother. She continued, "I'm sure everything is fine, Hermione. Let them in, would you?"

Hermione finally moved aside, still staring at Ron and Harry in question. Luckily, Ron answered Ginny's needling. "Yeah, well this isn't just my little sister's room, now is it? Can't just barge in on Hermione like that."

Harry's eyes immediately sought Ginny's when he entered. He found her sitting on what he assumed was her bed on the left side of the room, her expression resembling that of the twins more closely than he had even seen it. "Of course not, brother. Can't risk walking in on Hermione changing, but your sister-"

"Oh stuff it, Ginny. You're careful about it after growing up with all of us. Hermione isn't used to that many people being around."

Ginny nodded and hummed her agreement."That's true." She looked to Hermione and said, "We had to be careful at the Burrow- never knew when Fred and George were going to barge in with a camera or something." Turning back to her brother she asked innocently, "Isn't that right, Ron?"

From his standpoint slightly behind Ron, Harry saw just a hint of the blush that spread across Ron's cheek before his friend moved across the room to look out the dark window. The reddened tips of his ears were still visible, however. To Harry, the amusement at Ron's reaction was practically shining out Ginny as she stared at her brother, and Harry gave her an amused look. When she met his eyes, her lips twitched, causing his to do the same, and making it near impossible to hold back the laughter.

While Ron's back was still turned, a slightly pink Hermione shoved Ginny in disapproval, knocking the younger girl sideways. He bit the inside of his cheek harder to prevent himself from cracking at the way Ginny stuck out her tongue at Hermione. After such a long day, it was nice to have this normal teenage moment with all of them as friends.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny for a moment, receiving an eye-roll in turn, before the very sides of her mouth quirked. She covered it up quickly by addressing Harry, "So, you never did say what you came for."

Ginny perked up too. As Harry looked at her, he noticed the bags he had seen under her eyes in the study were no longer present. He didn't know how that was possible, but he hadn't noticed them earlier either, so maybe it was just the light in the study. He assessed her again, looking for signs of artifice, wondering how much of her current exuberance was real. His first observation was that she was genuinely amused by teasing her brother, but beyond that, he was looking for signs of stress. Overall, he was pleased to note that she seemed mostly relaxed, aside from the exhaustion.

Apparently her amusement was enough to keep her going, because she said jokingly, "Oh. Yes, gentlemen, please do tell what brings you to our dreary little corner of the house."

Harry laughed, liking the easiness to her and the way she fit right into the group. Had it just been the three of them as usual, they'd be knee deep in the conversation already, but this was much more enjoyable.

"You nailed it, Gin," he replied as he plopped himself down beside where she was lounging on her bed, happily leaning back onto the floral scented pillows. He took an exaggerated look around the room. It was truly not all that different from the rest of the dark, depressing house, but there seemed to be an extra chill in the air. Ginny was even wearing a worn jumper that she hadn't been earlier. Still he joked back, "We're just here for the scenery." His eyes roamed over her figure without his consent, starting with her luminous hair and following the tresses down to where they trailed over the worn fabric that was stretched by the curves of her breasts - the hardening in his trousers reminded him that he was not alone with her and he quickly redirected his thoughts, making another joke. "Where else could I see quality stolen clothing like this?" He asked, pinching the F stitched on her jumper that clearly indicated it had once belonged to Fred.

Ginny chuckled and smacked his hand away. With an eye-roll she said, "Uh-huh. Sure. Makes total sense."

Harry didn't mention that it did in fact make sense. He was still convinced she was the living embodiment of a patronus - she was here and that made it brighter and warmer somehow despite the grimness of the setting. Instead of voicing these thoughts, he shrugged and turned his attention back to Hermione, who was now looking between Harry and Ginny somewhat dumbfounded.

Ron let out a slow, "Right, so…" he paused and shook his head, directing his words to Hermione while peeking at Harry and Ginny out of the corner of his eye. "Anyway, Harry said you and Ginny were talking about the research you did today. I thought we could join in, find out if you found anything."

"Not much, honestly. But we didn't get to that yet. Ginny was just telling me about magical lines and how the magic is passed down. And the way certain lines have developed certain talents! It's fascinating. I can't believe never read anything about it before."

"It's just a theory, Hermione. Nothing has been confirmed," Ginny said patiently, as if she had repeated this many times already.

"I know. It's just there's so much I didn't know," she said in a strange mix of disappointment and wonder. Harry could sympathize, as it was just as surprising to him. "We were just talking about some of the family traits."

"Which ones have you gotten through?" Ron asked.

"Your family, with the charms. I remember being so impressed that you had just barely mastered _Wingardium Leviosa _enough to lift a feather, but then you were able to lift the troll's club! In that kind of situation though, with your life at risk and your family's magical affinity for charms, it makes so much sense."

Ron straightened, puffing up a bit. "Well, I couldn't let anything happen to you, could I?" His posturing quickly faded as his expression morphed into one of regret. More subdued, he added, "Especially since it was my fault you were there, anyway. Me and my fat mouth." He smiled sheepishly, "In a way though, I'm glad it happened, because we've all been friends ever since. Couldn't ask for better, honestly."

Hermione blushed and looked down, taking a moment before looking back up. Harry thought her eyes might have been glassy when she answered, "It hurt, but you made up for it by saving me. I- thank you, for that."

Harry was surprised by the turn in conversation. Ron and Hermione could be rather awkward and bump heads, but here Ron was admitting to his mistakes and apologizing. For some reason, Harry had the undeniable urge to look away from them, feeling uncomfortable witnessing the uncharacteristic display. His gaze landed on Ginny, whose eyes were widened comically, though she looked pleased as well.

"Right!" Ron suddenly said, rather louder than necessary. "Weasley's have charms. It's helped both Bill and Charlie. Bill's detection charms are the best out of anyone Gringotts employs right now from what I've heard, and Charlie said it's really helpful in calming the dragons," he rambled. Harry assumed he wanted to draw attention from the moment he and Hermione had shared. It was rather unnecessary, Harry thought, as he had no intention of talking about it and it seemed to be a line Ginny wasn't inclined to cross.

"Yes, Ginny mentioned that," Hermione agreed quickly. "We also talked about the Prewitts, Lestranges, Malfoys, and Rosiers."

"And the Lovegoods," Ginny added, with a pointed look. Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny continued sternly, "You really shouldn't dismiss Luna so quickly, Hermione. I'm telling you, they have an affinity for magical creatures. The strangest things find them and are docile for Luna and her father in a way that I've never seen before."

Hermione pursed her lips, but didn't argue. Harry, who hadn't thought until now to ask, decided to break the stand-off with the question that had been subconsciously burning in him. "What did the Potters have?" The question was too earnest and he felt his cheeks begin to heat. He looked down, avoiding their gazes as everyone paused.

It was Ginny who spoke up. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, her eyes were soft and her tone sincere. "I really don't know. Mr. Lupin might though. He should be around tomorrow. We'll ask."

"Oh," Harry let out in disappointment. "Yeah. I can ask Moony."

He hadn't been thinking about it too hard, because he didn't want to face the disappointment of knowing there was yet another thing he didn't know about his past that normal people did. It seemed like the information was pretty well-known though, based on the families they were discussing, so he thought there was a chance.

"You have to understand, mate," Ron explained, "that most families keep these things to themselves. They're long-guarded family secrets. It's an old tradition, from when there was a lot of feuding between magical families, so it was kind of like a secret weapon."

Hermione scoffed. "Secret weapon? Really?"

Ron shrugged. "I didn't say it made sense, just that they did it. It's easier for your enemy to plan around your defenses if they know your strengths, because your go-to defense tactic is usually whatever you're best at."

"I understand that," Hermione replied in exasperation. "It's just 'secret weapon' makes it sound so juvenile."

"If it's such closely guarded information, how do you know about _those_ families?" Harry cut in, not caring for whatever argument his friends may be able to have. "I would've thought they'd keep their secrets."

Ginny answered simply, "Because they're all related to or close to the Black family, so Sirius knew about them."

"Which means you know about them," he added he added shortly.

Ginny gave him a searching look as she said, "Yes. We talked about a lot of things."

He nodded, looking away from her to the wall above Hermione's bed, losing himself to his thoughts as Ron and Hermione continued discussing the known magical gifts of various families. He wasn't really interested in any of it at present, distracted by thoughts of Ginny's relationship with Sirius. Despite having gotten an inkling of it over the Christmas holiday, he was still slightly awed and jealous at how close the two were without anyone's knowledge. Most strange was that he found he was strangely jealous of both of them.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Ginny sat up straight and interrupted Ron and Hermione's conversation. "It's getting a bit late," she said casually, but there was something forced about her that rubbed Harry wrong. She was looking at Hermione though, which put her angled slightly away from him and blocked most of her face from view. She continued speaking only to Hermione, "I wanted to hit the shower before bed and since Ron can fill you in on anything I missed about family magic, do you mind sharing what you found today on the betrothal?"

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Harry wanted to do a double-take, but he just barely managed to control himself. He knew she wouldn't appreciate being called on the about-face in her attitude. For one, she had seemed content enough to casually hang out with him - _them_ \- until just now. Secondly, she had showered less than twelve hours ago, but now she was fingering her hair again as if there was something wrong with it. Even without him mentioning it, he saw his friends' reactions too; the same confusion he felt displayed briefly on Hermione's face and Ron's expression clearly showed concern, despite the fact that he tried to hide it. Ginny must have noticed too, because she straightened herself and looked at Hermione expectantly. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, however, and Harry had no doubt that she had started bothering her nails again.

_Damn it, _Harry thought to himself. She was putting her wall back up, and he realized now that it was probably his fault. They had been having such a good time, but he had turned all broody again. _She probably thinks it's her fault, you arse, _he scolded himself. _Can you not fuck it up, just once? _Still, he couldn't think of anything he could say to make it better at this point.

Thankfully, Hermione quickly answered, "Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away. You woke up so early this morning. I know you must be exhausted," Hermione rushed out. Harry looked away to hide the knowledge that Ginny had slept quite late, just not in her own bed. "Anyway, I wasn't able to find anything on the betrothal itself." Harry found himself disappointed, but Ginny seemed to have expected as much and nodded. "But I did have the names of some of those who had been bound by them and I was able to look them up on the family tree and extrapolate some information." Hermione paused, looking uncomfortable, and Harry could only assume that whatever theory she had come up with was unpleasant. "But I'm not sure," she added. "There's nothing definitive."

Ginny must have noticed their friend's hesitancy as well, because she said, "I trust your judgement, Hermione. We need to know everything we can."

"I noticed that the bonded couples all died rather closely in time to one another," Harry's heart dropped and he felt slightly panicked, knowledge of the prophecy and his possible impending demise clear in his mind, until Hermione hurried to clarify, "but only when they died of old age. When one of the pair died unexpectedly due to unnatural causes, it seems the other half is not affected."

He breathed a sigh of relief at that, happy to know that even if something did happen to him, at least Ginny would have a chance. Ginny didn't seem to share his concerns or relief and instead seemed to be thinking it over intently.

"How many examples did you find?" She eventually asked.

Hermione answered, "There were only six couples I could find that had definitively been bonded by this particular ritual over the last thousand years or so. Most were done during times of conflict, as is to be expected, so there were only two couples that lasted into late adulthood."

"So we're going off what happened to two couples?" Harry asked skeptically.

"I know it's not much, but the two pairs that survived the conflict lived to be very old, far longer than the average witch or wizard who dies of natural causes, and the surviving half died very shortly thereafter, within a day or two. It's an odd enough occurrence to see once, let alone twice in such a small sample set."

"Interesting," Ginny said distractedly, lost in thought, though she made no attempt to share any of the thoughts the information had sparked within her mind. She asked Hermione, "What about the rest of the Blacks? Is it typical for Blacks to live longer than the average witch or wizard?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, excited by whatever theory the girls had both grasped. "You may be right… I wasn't really paying attention to any of the Black ancestors that hadn't been part of one of these betrothals, but it's a definite possibility. I'll look into it tomorrow," she assured Ginny.

Harry cast a glance at Ron and was relieved to see his friend was just as lost as he was. Ron coughed deliberately to draw their attention, "Mind sharing your thoughts? We don't have your weird female mind-reading abilities."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked its earlier humor. Hermione huffed but explained, "Ginny was just pointing out that if Blacks typically live longer than most, given that they have a propensity for magical generation, perhaps it is that gift that keeps them alive longer. If magic is shared between bonded couples, then that ability would explain why the couples live longer and why their deaths so closely align."

Harry considered this, unsure how he felt about being so connected to another person. He'd always been on his own, with only himself that he really needed to worry about. If their magic was that tightly interwoven… it was just a scary thought. _Not that there's anything wrong with Ginny, _he thought. _She's been wonderful actually_.

"Maybe," he said aloud. He turned to see what Ginny thought, but her public persona was on full display at the moment. Other than the fact that he knew she was hiding _something_, he couldn't get a read on what her thoughts on the matter were.

"We don't really know anything about the bonding in terms of what it means for our magic once it's been completed, so it's all guesswork for now," Ginny said with an apathetic shrug. "Anyway, I'm going to go take that shower, maybe send off a few letters before bed. Will I see you soon, Hermione?"

"I'll be getting to bed shortly. Probably before you. I'd like to get an early start tomorrow," Hermione replied.

"Great," Ginny answered. "In that case, goodnight all. See you tomorrow." Her tone was cordial on the surface, but the smile was forced and her eyes flat before she turned and left without waiting for a response.

None of them commented on her abrupt departure or what had triggered it, but there was a heaviness surrounding them that told Harry they all felt the same way. Ron had watched her go sadly, his eyes lingering on the door long after she left.

Hermione tried to draw attention away from it, asking Ron, "What happened with your parents? They said we were going to get together again, to carry on the discussion, but we never did."

Ron turned back to Hermione. "Well, no one really went down to dinner last night, so there wasn't an opportunity, was there?" Harry recalled how Ron had found him red-eyed in Buckbeak's company last night, but hadn't drawn attention to the fact that he had clearly been crying, simply telling Harry he'd leave some food for him in their room when he was ready for it.

"But we were all there tonight and your mother didn't want us to even mention it, even though it would have been the perfect time," Hermione pointed out.

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "What would have been the point? Between the notes Sirius left and what he said to Ginny, we had worked out everything they were going to tell us. I woke up early this morning, so I spoke to dad about it and told him what we had worked out. He confirmed we had the right of it."

"I suppose that's true," Hermione said, still sounding disappointed.

Harry had no doubt that she had prepared a list of questions intent on getting more clarification. He was more inclined to agree with Ron, however, believing that the gist of the situation was enough. It didn't really matter much beyond that.

"We know enough about why," Harry decided to say. "Figuring out what happens from here is more important." He paused, wondering if he should tell them about the prophecy now, but decided against it. It was late, after all, and there was already too much going on. Ginny knew what she was getting into and that was enough for now. Still, the prophecy being on his mind made him anxious enough to double check, "You're sure that the death of one of the members of the betrothal doesn't harm the other?"

Hermione eyed him strangely, but she had been close enough to him to know he had experienced enough near misses with death that his fear was valid, so she replied, "It looks that way. I mean, none of the surviving parties died as a result, but so far I can't say anything in regard to how it affected their magic." She gave him an understanding look and placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't at all as comforting as when Ginny did it, and a part of him wanted to pull away from the contact, but he held still. "I'll do as much digging as possible tomorrow. Maybe some of them kept diaries. I know there are tons of things like that stored up in the attic."

"I can help you look, if you'd like," Ron added. Hermione pulled back to look at him in surprise. Ron offering to do research was certainly out of character, Harry thought, but he had seen how hard Ron was taking everything that was happening to his sister, and Harry knew better than anyone how guilt could motivate a person to do things they normally wouldn't. "It's a mess up there from the brief glimpse I got. Mum didn't even want to touch it before, but she'll understand why we need the information."

Hermione tried to cover up her surprise with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Ron. I appreciate it." She gave a little shiver. "I was not looking forward to going up there alone. The Blacks have some really creepy things that were stored there."

Ron muttered under his breath. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought it was something along the lines of, "Can't get any worse than spiders." He perked up then, "Hey, do you think if we send Crookshanks up first that he'd attack any spiders up there? I've seen him do that before."

Aghast, Hermione said, "Absolutely not! Who knows what kind of dangerous things are being stored there? What if he gets hurt?"

Ron, chastened, turned pink and rubbed at his neck. "Guess you're right. Didn't think about that. Sorry."

Recognizing that he truly didn't mean it, Hermione softened and said, "That's alright. It just made me nervous. I know you wouldn't want any harm to come to him."

Ron smiled back, looking relieved at having avoided a row. When the two stared at each other a bit longer than normal, Harry coughed.

"Right. Well, it looks like it'll be a busy day tomorrow, so we should all be getting to bed."

Harry and Ron took their leave after that, heading to their shared room upstairs. They didn't say much as they got ready for bed, both thinking rather intently about things. Ron's cheeks were faintly pink still, growing redder at seemingly random moments, and eventually Harry couldn't help but ask the obvious question.

"What was all that with Hermione tonight?" He asked, even though he knew he was opening Pandora's box. Depending on Ron's mood, asking about Hermione was like opening the door for Ron to ask about Ginny, which Harry definitely did not want to happen, but he sensed that his friend wasn't in the mood to snap back and may be open to the conversation. Clarifying, he said, "Normally you'd be fighting over Crookshanks, but you both...I've never seen you two… I don't know," he finished with a shrug.

Ron gave him a measured look. He seemed to be assessing Harry's motives and, understanding that Harry wasn't taking the mickey, replied, "Hermione and I have been friends since we were eleven," he shrugged. "I guess I just figured if you and Ginny could be that comfortable together when you hardly spoke for years, then there's no reason we couldn't do the same."

Surprised at the level of introspection that demonstrated on Ron's behalf, Harry said nothing at first, focusing on removing his glasses and climbing into bed for appearance's sake. Once he was settled, he said, "I'm glad." After a short pause, because he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her, he added, "It's been different - having Ginny around - but in a good way."

"Yeah," Ron replied vaguely, dimming the lights. "G'night, Harry."

Harry bid him goodnight as well, though he had no intention of sleeping. They both laid quietly for a time, only the sound of shifting sheets as Ron tossed and turned filling the silence. Harry waited for Ron's snoring to indicate he was in the clear to head up to meet Ginny, but it never came. Just as he was becoming frustrated, the lamp reignited.

"Are you going to see Ginny again?" Ron asked without preamble.

Harry looked at his friend, panicked. Without his glasses though, he couldn't see Ron's expression to determine what he was thinking. All he could do was play innocent. "What?"

"I'm not an idiot, thanks," Ron said brusquely. "I know I don't always know how to react or what to say, and more often than not I mess it up and do the exact opposite of what I should, but I do _notice_ things."

Harry quickly remembered Ron saying he had woken up early this morning, which meant he must have known that Harry hadn't been in bed, yet he hadn't said anything to anyone. He was surprised by - but also exceeding grateful for - his friend's tact. Still, he didn't want to admit anything.

Ron continued quietly, "That's her second shower today. She isn't weird about dirt, you know. She has absolutely no problem digging in the garden or chucking gnomes with us." Harry knew this - she had reacted better than anyone when the Mimbulus Mimbletonia had covered them all in Stinksap at the beginning of the year. "She only ever gets like this when she's trying 'to gain some measure of control'. That's how they explained it anyway, but we're not supposed to 'mention it or bother her about it', because 'there are far worse coping methods'," he said in a decent approximation of what Harry thought was supposed to be Bill. Dejectedly, he continued. "I'd probably muck it up anyway…" Harry wanted to reassure him, but Ron continued more strongly, "I'm not the person to do it, but she needs someone. So are you going to see her or not?"

It was the most forceful Harry had ever heard Ron be about something so emotional so he replied honestly, "Yes."

"Good," Ron said firmly. "I'll cover for you if need be."

"Okay," Harry said quietly, still surprised by the sudden turn Ron seemed to have taken today. He didn't waste time thinking about it, however, and was quickly under his cloak and on his way to Ginny.

She was playing guitar with her back to the door, singing quietly when he entered. The music was enough to cover the sound of the door opening, however, allowing him to listen without her knowledge.

"'_Cause tonight we got drinks_

_And just a couple of friends_

_And the girl that my brother likes is finally talking to him_

_And his chest is all swelled like he's proud and happy_

_Like he's got a great idea_

_Like he's making a memory"_

Harry smiled to himself. She wasn't much of a singer, but the memory of how they had all been joking together and Ron and Hermione's interaction was a happy one. As she continued, he continued to picture the scene.

"_Wake up and come out to the car_

_There's an east swell coming_

_The wind is howling off shore_

_And we'll be lying like lions out in the sand_

_But I'll be dead before you -"_

"_No_," he said in a hard voice, startling her. Her playing cut off and she turned to stare at him with wide eyes. He looked at her furiously. "Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" She asked with an edge to her tone, her expression guarded. It should have served as a warning, but Harry's agitation was too high for him to heed it. He wasn't even really thinking about the words - all he could see was the image of her lying on the Chamber floor when he had thought she was dead.

"You can't sacrifice yourself, not for anything or anyone," he stated firmly.

Her eyes flashed, but she kept her tone deliberately even. "What? You think you're the only person who is allowed to make sacrifices?" She pinned him with a glare, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. "This isn't just your fight, Harry. We all need to do our part to win this war."

"You know that's not true, Ginny." He ran his hand through his hair, pulling on it to center himself, so he could frame it properly. His nerves were still too high, but he persisted in trying. "You've sacrificed enough. You're doing enough already." He shook his head. "I won't allow any more than that."

Her eyes lit with true fire and, for the first time since he heard her singing, he questioned what he had done. Admittedly, he knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. "You won't _allow _me? And just what makes you think you have a say?" He had barely opened his mouth to respond when she said, "Where do you even get off saying that? How about if I said I won't let you run off and face Voldemort? How would you feel about that?"

"That's not the same thing, Ginny. I don't have a choice, the prophecy -"

"You call this a choice?! What the hell else am I supposed to do Harry? Because none of this has been a choice. Nothing is for either of us at this point. We're just doing what we have to do." she said angrily.

His anger had strangely faded in response to her own. He realized he was shaking, but didn't seem to be able to control it. The cold way she eyed him wasn't helping matters, either. It was so different from how they had been interacting since they had returned to Grimmauld Place that it made him feel weak.

Her eyes widened and he saw some sort of understanding there. Less angry, but still resolute, she said, "I'm scared too, Harry, but that doesn't mean you can walk in here and act like you have any control over what I do or don't do."

"This is different," he said, avoiding her accusation. It was the wrong thing to say apparently, and her already angry expression twisted to one of pure outrage. He hurried to clarify, "I'm not downplaying what you're doing. I _told _you I think you've sacrificed too much. But you were just talking about laying down your _life_ -".

She scoffed at him and he had to force his temper from rising back up at the gesture. "Don't just barge in here and make assumptions," she said with a glare. "The lyric wasn't going where you thought it was. Besides, the song isn't even about me."

"Oh," he breathed in relief. It occurred to him that she may be lying, so he watched her carefully as he asked, "Really?"

She didn't get angry again, like he might have expected. Instead, the hardness in her expression faded into something pained before she continued more calmly. "Yes. I didn't even write this - Sirius did, back during the first war," she said, gesturing to the worn notebook beside her. "The 'brother' he's referring to was actually your dad." All her anger had apparently deflated, until nothing but sadness was in its place.

That sadness resonated with him as well, but it didn't wash out the lingering remains of panic that the thought of losing her had created. He still felt like he was shaking with it, though the tremors had stopped. He had lost so many people close to him in the past. He had almost lost _her _when they were just kids, and it had terrified him even then, before he truly knew what it would have meant to lose her. Now that he knew, it was so much worse. Despite how out of control it had made him feel, she had been correct when she said he had no right to treat her that way.

Silence had settled between them. Both of them had gotten angry and escalated the fight, but he had started it and been the most in the wrong, so he figured it was up to him to take the first step toward reconciliation. Awkwardly, he said, "Sorry about that." He could barely meet her eyes for more than a few moments, so he looked down and rubbed his neck. He realized that wasn't enough, so he forced himself to look at her again. "Even if you had been- even if they had been your own words - I shouldn't have been presumptuous enough to think I could tell you what to do."

She looked him over extensively, as if she were taking in every detail of his appearance and weighing it. By the time she nodded to herself, he felt as if he had been x-rayed. Thankfully, it was worth it, because the lingering tension that suggested she had been holding onto some of her anger had faded.

"I appreciate that, Harry." She tried to smile, but her attempt landed just shy of reaching her eyes. Mockingly stern, she added, "Don't let it happen again, though, or there will be hell to pay."

Awkwardness settled in again. In that time, Ginny shrunk the guitar with a tap of her wand and reattached it to her charm bracelet. She played with the charms for a while, the phoenix one in particular. When he had seen it for the first time, it had reminded him of the bell jar they had seen in the Department of Mysteries and the way she had stared at it the night that Sirius died. He wondered if that was where her mind was now too, but didn't want to ask and make things worse again.

She seemed to have had enough of the silence, as well, because she said, "You know, I've been thinking about it, and I think the Potters may have a gift somehow related to defensive magic."

"What makes you say that?" He asked curiously, afraid to hope that she might have given him the answer.

"Well, your father was extremely skilled at dueling, your grandfather as well, and you clearly have a talent for it. From all the stories I've heard, it seems the most plausible," she looked away then, shifting uncomfortably, and continued quickly, "though I'm sure there are plenty of things I don't know about you or your family that could hint at something else. It's not always very overt. Sometimes it's subtle, like the general ability to cast with above average strength to the spells."

"I don't know. It's something to think about, at least, and I can always ask Moony, like you said," he replied, turning the idea over in his mind.

She nodded in response, but didn't say anything as she looked down at where she was pulling the worn sleeves of Fred's jumper down over her hands- her whole demeanor radiated awkwardness. Harry knew that the discomfort she was displaying was because of how he had reacted earlier to the knowledge Sirius had given her, and he didn't like it at all. Everything had been fine until he had gotten upset, and he wanted the atmosphere between them to go back to the light, teasing way it had been earlier.

"Look, Gin," he started uncomfortably, "I didn't mean to upset you earlier when we were talking about family gifts. It's-"

She interrupted him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Upset me?! You haven't been upsetting me, Harry. I've been feeling guilty that I kept upsetting you. I feel like I just keep making things worse by taking things from you or bringing up bad memories or just -"

"No!" He interrupted. "No, not at all. I don't blame you for anything. I keep making you feel bad though-"

"No, you have every right to be overwhelmed and upset. I get that way too-"

"But it wouldn't be so bad if I would-"

Suddenly Ginny burst into laughter, cutting him off. Harry was surprised but relieved by the turn in her behavior. He loved it when she laughed, even if he didn't know why.

"Stop!" She managed to wheeze between breaths, "We both need to stop." Calming down, she continued looking much more at ease, "Clearly neither one of us is upset with the other, and we need to stop being so ridiculous."

He chuckled too, only now realizing just how ridiculous they had been acting. "Yeah. You're right. So, we're fine, then?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled genuinely. "We're fine, Harry. I think we both need to remember that this isn't easy and cut ourselves some slack."

He felt better as she smiled at him. The circumstances were extremely stressful at the moment, and it wasn't surprising that sometimes things may get out of hand, but they would be alright as long as they slowed down and recognized it. He smiled back too.

Feeling lighter, he sat down beside her. "So, did Sirius leave that to you?"

She tilted her head, "Well, it seems like he left it behind to both of us, as it was just inside the normal box." Her eyes shot to his worriedly, "Sorry, but after a while I just assumed you weren't coming tonight and started going through things again."

He dismissed her apology. "It's fine. I was just waiting for Ron to fall asleep first." Then, not wanting to lie to her, but also not wanting to get into it, he moved on. "It's all good now, though. Mind if I…?" He asked, gesturing to the box.

"Not at all. I took your box out already - I didn't look at it or anything - well, it fell and I had to put everything back, but I tried not to look - but it was in the way of mine and it's a bit difficult to get out -"

"It's fine, Gin," he said with a smile. He bumped her shoulder with his and winked, "Now stop apologizing before people start to think you're me."

"Ha. Ha. Harry," she replied sarcastically, adding an eye-roll for good measure. She had a legitimate smile on her face, though, the kind that made him feel like he was standing in a ray of sunlight, and Harry counted that as a victory.

Harry got up from the bed to retrieve the box Sirius had left specifically for him as Ginny began flipping through the journal. As he sat back down beside her, he saw her smile sadly and stroke a page.

"Gin?" He asked, unable to help himself. "You okay?"

She pulled her hand back from the page as if burned, her eyes blinking back the slight accumulation of moisture there as she looked at him. She cleared her throat, "Yeah. I'm fine. I've just been reading through his journal," she lifted the book slightly in indication, "but I've mostly been skimming. Didn't really want to read about what he thought of me, you know?"

"I wouldn't worry about that. Clearly he thought highly of you," Harry said gently, sitting down beside her again and placing his box to the side. Inside, he was wondering if the same could be said about himself. Sirius had said he loved him in the letter he left for him, but that was an easy thing to leave behind as a final good-bye. Most people would expect something like that, wouldn't they? _Is that what he really thought?_ Harry wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Perceptive as always, Ginny nudged him. "He thought very highly of you too," she said with an encouraging smile. "I didn't feel any need to skip the parts about you," she added teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, giving her a small smile, but refusing to be pushed off topic. "What were you looking at just now?"

She shook her head, smiling fondly at him. "That can wait, Harry. I saw something in there that makes me think you're going to like what he left you. I really think you should open it."

He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for something. He wasn't sure what it was - reassurance maybe - but he found it regardless. He saw a total understanding of the apprehension he felt at facing the final gifts Sirius had left him. Aside from his broom and a broken mirror that could have prevented this tragedy to begin with, he had nothing of the man who was the closest thing to his own true family that he had ever had. What if it wasn't really anything of significance? What if he didn't actually leave him anything at all? Ginny must have seen his doubts, because she laid her hand on top of his and squeezed gently.

"You don't have to," she said softly. "I do truly believe you won't be disappointed, though. I haven't seen the finished product, but I can tell Sirius put a lot of time and effort into it."

Warmth radiated from her and into him from where it still laid on his, settling his harried nerves. Her confidence washed over him like sunlight and gave him the courage to open the package. Reticent as he was to lose physical contact with her, he was now committed to seeing this through, so he nodded and removed his hand from hers so that he could open it.

There was a single item staring up at him from inside the box: a thick bound book entitled _Mischief Managed_, written in Sirius's hand. His eyes widened in surprise at the content, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He knew without even cracking the cover that Sirius had given him a gift beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. There could only be one subject of this book and it was something he had always wanted. Harry was now holding a tangible connection to his father's, and by extension his, past.

He felt like his whole body had seized up the moment he realized the significance of what he had been given. Nothing around him registered as he stared at the book. His throat tightened painfully, making it hard to swallow or even breathe, and his hand had paused halfway toward the cover, as if he was afraid to touch it and find it was all an illusion. Caught in the emotional tidal wave, he stayed like that for a long moment.

It wasn't until Ginny took his extended hand and laced her fingers with his that he thawed and started breathing properly again. His racing heart and rapid breathing left him feeling as if he'd just been sprinting instead of sitting immobile. Ginny sat quietly beside him, her hand holding his firmly, and rested her head on his shoulder as he steadied himself.

She didn't speak until he had returned to some approximation of normal. Not moving from her spot against him, she spoke to the wall ahead of them in a quiet, soothing voice. "It's alright, Harry. Take all the time you need."

Her gentle presence - how her thumb brushed the back of his hand soothingly, the way she didn't ask anything of him, the scent of her hair so close to his face, the warmth radiating into his side where her body aligned with his - settled him, until he could think and act normally again. He was about to apologize for his gross overreaction, but she squeezed his hand twice before he could inhale to form the words. He knew she was wordlessly absolving him of any guilt. He squeezed back gratefully and let go.

Without a word between them, he placed the book in his lap and opened it. It seemed to be understood between them that he wanted her here for this, that her presence was helping him, so she stayed resting against his shoulder. He quickly slipped his hand back into hers, using only his free hand to flip the pages.

The first section of the book was labeled, "Tales of the Marauders (and Company)". There was a note written directly below the title, addressed to him.

_Harry,_

_I'm afraid I've been remiss, always thinking there would be another time, a better moment, maybe when it was just us, to share these things with you, but those moments never came. It's no excuse, but I could never seem to force the words out in front of others. I'm so sorry, kiddo. I hope I'm sitting next to while you being laughed at for being so dramatic while you're reading this, but I can't shake the worry that I won't be. This is just a small collection of the stories I've been longing to tell you, most of them inspired by the similarities I've seen between you and your parents. They'd be so proud to call you their son, Harry. I know I am._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

Part of Harry desperately wanted to know what stories the pages held, what Sirius had thought would best represent the spirit and character of his father and their friends, but he was too tired and overwrought to face it at present.

The memory he had seen from Snape and how a young Sirius had found the altercation funny tried to surface, but he quickly beat it back, wanting to enjoy this moment. As disillusioned as he felt with the memory of his father after what he had seen, he still hoped there was more to the story, that Harry could find a way to forgive him for being such an arrogant, bullying jerk, but if those stories revealed otherwise… All he had ever had of his parents were the stories he had been told and the fantasies he had built around them, but if the truth written here proved them wrong, Harry wasn't sure he would ever recover. He quickly flipped to the next section, relieved to find a collection of annotated photographs.

There were all sorts of photos there, from his father as a child to Harry as a baby, including pictures of his mother when she was in her Hogwarts days. How Sirius had gotten them he doubted he would ever know, but he was grateful none-the-less, never having seen her at that age before. He couldn't help commenting to Ginny, "Look at my mum, she's probably as short as you there."

She swatted his chest lightly, but replied with good humour, "That's enough out of you. I'm the perfect size, thank you very much. You're not one to talk. Look at your father there - you look just like him except for the height and eyes."

There were also photos that he recognized the settings of, photos that were taken the same day as the photos he had in the album Hagrid had given him, except these included Sirius as well. Harry smiled frequently, as did Ginny from what he could feel of her cheek against his arm, reading the little notes Sirius had added below each one for context. Mostly, Harry just marveled at how young and happy they all looked together.

Eventually, he noticed that Ginny had stopped smiling in response to the images, despite the fact that there was a particularly embarrassing one of baby Harry in the tub that had him desperately wanting to close the book. Surprised, he tried to peek at her without disturbing her position or giving himself away.

In the end, it proved unnecessary, as Ginny yawned widely and she drooped forward. The movement caused her head to slide off his shoulder slightly until she jerked back. He couldn't see her eyes with how she was positioned against him, but he was certain she had nearly drifted off to sleep. Even when she pulled her head back up, she was still sagging into his side. Still, she made no move to lie down yet.

"Gin," he said quietly, causing her to pull back and look at him with bleary eyes. Harry stared at her intently, because he knew she was exhausted and that her face should have shown it more. Instead of believing the lighting had been playing tricks on him as he had earlier, he was now suspecting there had been some magic involved. Her expression was completely sagged and _should_ have reflected that exhaustion in her coloring, even if only in the bags under her eyes. The longer he stared, the more he believed he was correct. Her eyes were barely open at this point.

"Gin, you can go to sleep if you want," he said. Then realizing it may be the light that was a problem, offered, "I don't have to do this tonight. I'll just head back to bed so you can turn the lights down."

She shook her head sleepily, yawning widely again before answering, "No," she croaked a bit, her throat dry from disuse. She cleared it and said more clearly, "No, you're fine. I don't mind the light. I was just- yeah. I'm just going to lie down if you don't mind."

He smiled softly in reassurance. "Go ahead. G'night."

"Night, Harry," she mumbled, grabbing Snuffles off the bedside table and lying down in the same spot she had last night. She didn't look much like she was trying to settle in for the night though, lying atop the heavy comforter, only having wrapped herself in a light woven blanket. Still, she fell asleep within moments.

Harry watched her for a moment, before deciding he couldn't leave her like that. Sure, she was exhausted, but eventually the cold would wake her up. Gently shifting the heavy comforter, he slid it out from underneath her and laid it atop her instead. A slight smile lifted her lips as she relaxed further.

The image of her lying there in a peaceful slumber painted a comfortable picture to Harry. He wanted nothing more than to lie down beside her and drift into whatever realm she had found that made her face appear so relaxed, but knew he couldn't. His body was reacting faintly even at present - despite the calm, comforting nature of the moment - as his eyes travelled along the smooth contour of her body wrapped tightly in the blanket, reminding him why he couldn't. It just wouldn't be right now that he knew the physical effect her body had on him. Maybe if he had asked first…

He shook of the line of thought and deliberately turned back to the book in his lap, flipping to the next section. The first page was largely blank except for one sentence. "_If you ever get your head out of your arse regarding Ginny Weasley, this may be helpful." _Curious, Harry turned the page to find a very detailed drawing of a naked woman with a man… he quickly snapped the book shut, causing Ginny to stir slightly. His face was flaming, even though she was none the wiser.

_Of course Sirius would leave sex advice_. What if he had turned to that page before she had fallen asleep? _A little warning might have been nice_, Harry thought to himself, disgruntled in his embarrassment at the close call. Then a chuckle escaped and he muttered in disbelief, "Fucking Sirius."

He looked up and whispered to wherever Sirius was, "You did that on purpose. I know you did." Then after a pause, he added, "Thanks." He was deeply grateful for it, now that he had thought it over, because maybe - just _maybe_ \- he would someday need that kind of advice, and Sirius had given him a gift by finding a way to provide it to him in a way that meant he wouldn't have to pluck up the courage to ask.

He'd never really considered it. He'd had one disaster of a kiss and one disaster of a date with a girl before and had never really given much thought to what an actual relationship might be like or where it would lead. Why would he have? It seemed like the kind of thing that other people had, people who were not him.

Even if he had considered it, who would he even go to? The only people he could even dream of ever being comfortable enough to ask something like that would be one of the Weasley brothers. They were the closest things he had to brothers himself, and the likeliest option, but he could _never _approach them for sex advice if he wanted it for help with Ginny.

He froze as his thoughts caught up to him.

Until this moment, he hadn't really considered what all the little observations and feelings in regard to Ginny had meant. Yes, he was attracted to her physically, but she was attractive, so it wasn't surprising. He'd been fleetingly attracted to plenty of girls before, after all. _There is nothing fleeting about your attraction to Ginny, _a voice in his head called him out, _and not just physically_.

This was true. He'd been fleetingly attracted to the various girls at Hogwarts - their hair, chest, or backside catching his attention here or there - but he had never been so attracted to a girl as a whole. Even Cho, who had been his first crush and he had mildly obsessed over, had been more of an infatuation with the idea of a pretty girl than a true attraction to who she was. His feelings toward Ginny weren't like that. They were deep and real. There was a connection there that had him feeling like they understood each other, like they operated on the same level that very few others could truly relate to, and it made him want to be around her all the more.

Her laugh, her smile, and her good moods all made him happier. Her fears, doubts, and pain made him ache for her. _That _was not indicative of a fleeting attraction, but something deeper and unexpected. He actually _fancied_ Ginny.

It was not something he was prepared for.

Moments ago he had been dreading leaving her side and was preparing to force himself, but now he felt like he had to get away. Quickly, he stored everything carefully and left, heading for his own bed away from the confusion that now surrounded her.

Once settled in his room, Ron's familiar snores filling the air, he tried not to think about it too much. He fancied Ginny, which may have been a little awkward at worst if the situation were different, but now was complicated beyond belief given their current predicament. They were bound and only had the option to be together, so it may have been a good indicator for their future had she been interested in him as well… but she had long since gotten over him.

Filled with a tumultuous mix of anger, confusion, and disappointment, he punched the pillow before settling back down. Thinking was getting him nowhere, he decided. Taking deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down, doing his best to stop thinking entirely so that he could eventually fall asleep.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, the new nightmare he had just witnessed causing bile to rise in his throat, though he forced it down. His brain had twisted his usual miserable nightmare - the one featuring Sirius falling through the veil while Harry watched helplessly - into something worse. He had been in the Chamber, directing the Basilisk to go after Sirius while Ginny clung to his arm and begged him to stop. Instead of listening to her, he ignored her pleas and insisted he had everything under control. _"You can trust me,"_ he had said every time she cried out that he didn't know what he was doing. Sirius was quickly caught in the serpent's gaze, falling dead to the floor in the same way he had fallen back through the veil. Harry didn't hear his body land, as Ginny's piercing scream when the Basilisk twisted around to return to where he and Ginny were standing had woken him.

Overall, Harry didn't place much stock in divination or dreams that weren't related to Voldemort, but even he knew what this was about. Even if he hadn't been able to read between the lines of the context, the sinking, sick feeling he had radiating throughout his body made it undeniable that this nightmare was entirely centered on his feelings of guilt. Guilt for all the things he hadn't done for Ginny, like what had happened with the diary, for what he had done as well, like what had happened to Sirius, and for what was happening now, like the way his selfish brooding always seemed to make Ginny feel worse.

Intellectually, he knew he hadn't intentionally hurt Sirius. All he had wanted was to protect him, just as that was all Sirius wanted for him. After reading through the book Sirius had left him and seeing how much effort the man had put into it, he had no doubt that Sirius would forgive him. It didn't mean he wouldn't blame himself somewhat, but he needed to remember that it wasn't truly his fault, just a horrible set of circumstances that aligned in the worst possible way.

He also needed to see Ginny now, regardless of the confusion way he felt about her. He knew sleep wouldn't be an option until he had ascertained that she was okay. It didn't matter that it was irrational. Grabbing the invisibility cloak, he headed upstairs as quietly as possible.

When he slipped in the door, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her sleeping peacefully in the bed just as he had left her. The larger blanket that he had pulled over her only came up to her chest, but the quilt she had been wrapped up in was wrapped all the way up past her chin. Despite how quiet he had been, he saw her stir and pull the blanket down, freeing her mouth.

"Harry," she called out questioningly. "Did you leave?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly as he removed the cloak and made his way over to the bed. "Tried to sleep downstairs, but it didn't work out."

Now that he was closer, she pulled the quilt that she was cocooned in tighter around her, bunching it up in front of her face again and obscuring her voice a little. Despite this, Harry though he could make out the words, "Shouldn't have left in the first place. It's much nicer here."

Relieved that she wasn't upset that he intended to sleep there as well, he climbed in. As disturbed as the realization that he fancied her had made him, the feeling of peace and calm he felt in her presence reminded him that his feelings were more than just that. She had a way of providing companionship and comfort that settled him. They were friends now and a team. He could count on her and she needed to be able to count on him. Whatever he may or may not have felt romantically wasn't as important as remembering that fact.

As he settled himself, she slid close enough that he could feel her warmth between the woven blanket that separated them. She let out a satisfactory sigh and he saw a slight smile lift her lips. "Mmm, warmth. It's much better when you're here."

Ginny was perfectly at ease and comfortable with him there and the feeling spread to him as well, washing out all the lingering negativity of his nightmare. Harry smiled widely to himself, remaining silent as he watched her slip back into slumber. This was the second night Ginny had spoken to him so frankly when she was half asleep. He wasn't sure she even remembered it when she was in a daze like she was at present, but regardless of if she remembered it or not, he quite liked these moments. His earlier dilemma pushed aside for the time being, he finally felt at peace and allowed himself to fall asleep as well.


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: I keep forgetting to add these! Finally did though. I owe endless thanks to iKingBearII for all his help and encouragement. Also thanks and love to everyone on The Ginny Lovers discord. **

Ginny woke suddenly, an unfamiliar weight settled across her back having startled her out of slumber. She was warm and comfortable lying on her stomach in bed, but when she reached back to grasp the heavy thing weighing her down, she felt an arm and realized she wasn't alone. She pulled her hand quickly back to her chest where she felt the soft faux-fur of Snuffles, cluing her back into her surroundings.

She relaxed. She was in Sirius's room and it was Harry with her. Just like the night before last, he had come to the room after she had fallen asleep and joined her. Their conversation was only a vague impression in her mind, but she knew enough to know that he had left last night and returned.

His leaving wasn't a problem, but she had to wonder why he bothered. The last two nights he had nightmares in his own bed, and she was certain he had been having them at least as often as she had before then too, but she hadn't woken up to him thrashing at all either time he'd been here with her. She, thankfully, hadn't had any nightmares last night either, for the first time in a while and figured it had to do with being here. _I'll have to mention that_, she thought.

Still feeling exhausted, she opened her eyes trying to get a sense of the time. With relief, she noted there was no light trying to sneak through the gaps in the worn curtains, so it must still have been very early in the morning. More sleep sounded fantastic at the moment, but Harry's arm weighing down on her wasn't exactly comfortable. Gently, she rolled onto her side facing away from him, hoping to slip out from under him without disturbing his sleep.

The moment she made it to her side however, his hand flattened against her stomach and tightened, pulling her back into his chest. She tried a little harder to subtly escape, but each time she managed to get a bit of space between them, his grip adjusted to become more secure. By the time she gave up, her back was nestled firmly against his chest, his face in her hair. He exhaled a murmur that sounded startlingly like, "Gin."

The way he relaxed into the position and the satisfied, peaceful hum the single word made washed over her in gentle waves until she felt completely submersed in the comfort he clearly felt. It was exactly the kind of moment her girlhood self would have rejoiced in, which is exactly why Ginny was resisting thinking about it. That girl had been weak and foolish, two things Ginny was determined to never be again. She _refused_ to ever become her again, in fact.

Then she remembered her old deal with herself, back when she would still wake from nightmares of the Chamber in tears, unable to pull herself together. She would only allow herself to be weak in the deepest of night under the cover of darkness. _Well_, she thought, _it's not quite the same, but if you're going to succumb, now would be the time._

So she let herself relax into the moment. It was just so… fitting for that little girl she had been. it was exactly what she had always wanted, wasn't it? She and Harry had been inseparable this past day. They had had a few bumps along the way, for sure, like their fight, but it had all worked out.

Their little spat had been resolved rather quickly, given how prone to temper they could both be when under pressure. Even if she had been talking about sacrificing herself, Harry was the absolute last living person who had any right to reproach her for it. His willingness to put himself at risk to save others might as well have been tattooed on his forehead for how well-known he was for it. Harry was just that kind of person, who loved unconditionally and without thought, who believed in the value of life. It truly was what set him apart and made him the perfect antithesis to Voldemort.

Ginny had spent a great deal of time analyzing what Dumbledore had told Harry, evaluating it from as many angles as she could think of it.After careful consideration, she decided that perhaps he had the right of it. Love was what the side of the Light was fighting for. It was wonderful and terrible in equal measure. Love led people to do terrible things without thought, like running headlong into a doomed fight with a megalomaniac to rescue someone they love the way she and Harry had. It could inspire others to risk themselves out of loyalty the way their friends had, and at its height gave people the strength to knowingly sacrifice themselves the way Harry's parents had done. She had no illusions that Harry wouldn't be willing to do the same.

She really couldn't judge him for it, either his actions or assuming that was what she had meant by the song, because she knew without a doubt that the love she had for her family and friends could drive her to do just about anything if the situation called for it. Love, in its endless forms, was something Voldemort lacked that Harry had in spades.Ginny didn't think that last night had been the time to articulate those thoughts to Harry however, and kept them to herself.

Instead of the argument sinking them, like she might have guessed it would, it had helped them clear the air. They had actually acknowledged that neither of them was to blame (though Ginny would always privately blame herself for what happened with that blasted diary) and agreed to work through things together. Surprisingly, they had. It had been a nice relief to experience the comfort they had offered one another and the things they were able to confide that they didn't with the others. It was a particularly good thing considering that by tomorrow evening he was going to be the closest thing she had to family magically, as she would be to him.

The thought snapped her out of the indulgent fantasy. These were all the things Harry was being denied by the betrothal. His right to find those things for himself… love, companionship, family. She fully intended to give him as much of these things as she could, but it would never be the same coming from her as it would from someone he had been given the chance to choose for himself.

He was in a vulnerable state now - she had seen it clearly with her own two eyes - struggling with the death of his godfather, the prophecy, and the upheaval the betrothal had wrought on their lives. It wasn't like he had chosen her for any of this - she was just the person most closely intertwined with all his current issues - and it felt like she was taking advantage of him by indulging like this.

Still, when he tightened his grip once more as she made another attempt to distance herself, she gave up. _Just this once_, she insisted to herself. _It's clearly what he wants at the moment and it's not uncomfortable, so there's no point in waking him_. Ginny let these thoughts placate her, avoiding the thought of just how "not uncomfortable" she felt, and let herself fall back to sleep.

When she woke again, light was shining through the gaps in the curtains allowing her to catch a glimpse of an invisible person slipping out the open bedroom door. She lifted her head to watch as Harry quietly closed it behind him without a word of goodbye. Ginny allowed her head to flop back in mild frustration, wondering if that was to be the way of it from now on. Granted, it was based on a small sample set, but two nights in a row now Harry had slipped into bed after she had gone to sleep and slipped out before she had risen. She supposed it was slightly awkward, going from being casual friends to sharing a bed, but weirder things had definitely happened in both their lives. They definitely had bigger problems.

What was going to happen today, for instance.

She had owled Bill last night, filling him in on the warning Percy had sent and letting him know she intended to come today to settle the inheritance. She didn't know if or how the Goblins would receive her on such short notice and she had hoped Bill would reply and give her some insight. He hadn't had much time, but she was still nervous at the lack of response.

She was nervous in general. The deeper her thoughts delved into what was coming today, the worse her anxiety got. At present, she felt like insects were crawling across her scalp, the sensation spreading down to the rest of her body and out to her limbs until she could see her hands vibrating with the nervous energy. Even her hair felt like something was crawling through it.

Launching herself out of bed, she made her way determinedly to the shower. She needed to wash it all away. Even if it was only her imagination. Perhaps more so because it was only in her mind.

Once she had thoroughly scrubbed every inch of her skin and hair - twice - in the scalding water, she decided it was enough. The overly warm water had soothed the worry enough for now. Reluctantly, she stepped out of the tub, not wanting to monopolize the bathroom and aware she had already spent far longer under the comforting spray of water than she should have. _Guess that means I'm drying my hair in my room. _

As she was drying off, she realized she had a problem. Having been in such a hurry, Ginny had forgotten to bring any fresh clothes to change into, and would now have to traverse the halls in just her thin dressing gown. Fervently hoping she didn't come across anyone, she slipped quietly into the hall. _For once, I'm grateful for the darkness here._

She only made it halfway down the hall before someone tripped up the stairs. Distinctly uncomfortable, Ginny stepped back, wondering if a stranger was about to get a decent glimpse of parts of her she'd prefer to keep private. To her immense relief, she recognize the annoyed feminine voice that bit out, "Bloody fucking hell!"

"Morning Tonks! I was hoping to find you." Ginny said, making her way forward now to ask if Tonks would be willing to accompany her to Gringotts today. Her attire was forgotten - Tonks was practically an older sister to her and she really did need to talk to her. "I was wondering-" she cut herself off, now close enough to see the details of Tonks's appearance. The usual bubblegum pink of her hair was now a mousy brown and her shoulders drooped. "Hey, are you alright? You look completely exhausted," she asked in concern.

Tonks looked up, her eyes red and tired regarding Ginny blearily, "I am positively knackered. I had a shift with the Aurors yesterday, followed by an overnight double-shift doing watch on Privet Drive."

"Oh, no wonder you're tired." Ginny frowned. "You really shouldn't wear yourself down over the watches. There isn't much purpose now."

Tonks shrugged. "It's necessary for as long as you want to keep it a secret that Harry's here." Ginny began to interrupt, to tell her that they didn't need to hide it from anyone if it was too much, but Tonks waved her hand dismissively and continued, "Obviously, the Ministry knows the location of his relatives or Umbridge never would have been able to send the Dementors, and you know as well as I do that the Death Eaters know anything the Ministry knows. As loathsome as they are, Harry would probably want someone keeping an eye on things with his relatives anyway." She yawned widely, interrupting herself. Shrugging weakly, she said, "There are worse things I could be doing for the Order. Anyway, you were going to ask me something?"

"It's not important. Why don't you go lie down in my room? Hermione has probably already headed to the library and I'll be busy for at least the next few hours. You shouldn't be disturbed there," Ginny offered, making a mental note to let Hermione know.

Smiling tiredly, Tonks said, "Thanks. With how tired I am, I probably would have splinched myself if I apparated or even missed the damn grate if I tried to Floo."

"Happy to help," Ginny replied. She truly was. Tonks was clearly spreading herself thin trying to help them and anything Ginny could do to repay that kindness, she would. But first, "One last thing, do you know where I can find Lupin? I have a few questions for him."

Even with the exhaustion overshadowing most of her expression, Ginny could still see the scowl on Tonks's face at the mention of Lupin. "No," she said, sounding bitter. "He hasn't been spending much time here since… well, since everything happened. Left as fast as he could the day we picked you lot up from the station. I don't even know where he went." Her hair changed, becoming lined with streaks of gray and black as Ginny watched. Something in her eyes expressed a deep sadness that had Ginny's heart aching sympathetically for the older girl. Her tone was laden with worry when she continued, "He's been taking on more dangerous missions as well, trying to liaise with the other werewolves, but he hasn't had much luck so far. I don't know when he'll be back."

Ginny couldn't help herself and she reached out to hug the older girl in comfort. There had been brief periods of time in which her elder brothers brought around decent girlfriends who paid attention to her and that she had briefly admired, but Ginny had never admired an older girl as a big sister more than she did Tonks. Tonks had been wonderful to her since they had first met; she never failed to offer gentle advice and encouragement, while still being the perfect example of a self-sufficient badass despite constantly being underestimated. She was exactly the type of person Ginny hoped she could be, confident and independent despite how many people doubted that she could be. Tonks returned her embrace, reminding Ginny that their relationship was not one-sided.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said softly to her. "I'm sorry about Sirius and Remus being difficult. It's hard on everyone."

Tonks pulled back, sniffling but dry-eyed. "Thanks, Ginny. It's… been difficult. I know he's having a hard time and that he's happier when we're together. He just won't let himself… he just keeps making everything harder than it has to be. Things could be so much easier if he'd just allow it."

"I know," Ginny replied with a sigh. She took Tonks's hand and began leading her to the bedroom. "He and Harry could probably really use each other. Lupin is all that's left of his parents' friends now, and there is still so much he doesn't know." She shook her head sadly. "We'll figure that out later, though. Right now you just need to rest," she said as she opened the door and led Tonks to her bed.

Tonks fell onto the old mattress, not from her usual clumsiness but simply out of exhaustion. Satisfied she was safe and likely soon to be asleep, Ginny turned and began searching for something to wear, tossing the useless items behind her in her haste. She wanted something nice, because she knew seeking an impromptu meeting with the Goblins was rude enough without the added insult of her showing up looking like a slob, but she had done a lot of growing the past year and had very little left that fit. Frustrated, she slammed the lid of her trunk in defeat when nothing decent presented itself.

"Uh, Ginny?" She heard Tonks's questioning tone and looked over at her, finding a puzzled and slightly incredulous expression on her face. "Were you really just wearing that in the hall?"

Ginny looked down at herself and realized most of her bottom could be seen now. Flushing, she stood. Pseudo-sister or not, she didn't think Tonks needed to see quite so much of her anatomy.

"Sorry," she said quickly, pulling the hem even further down. _Maybe Mum was right about this old thing not being an effective cover-up anymore. _"I was in a hurry this morning and forgot to bring myself a change of clothes."

Tonks whistled. "Well, that's brave. Could've run into anyone here at headquarters…"

Ginny shrugged, "It's mostly just my family here right now and it's nothing they haven't seen. Plus, Hermione and I have shared a room for ages. She's seen me change countless times."

"And Harry?" Tonks asked, her tone teasing.

Ginny's stomach swooped, but she pushed it back. _The crush, and the girl who had it, are dead now, _she reminded herself forcefully. _You had your moment last night. _Carefully thinking about her wardrobe instead of Harry, she waved a dismissive hand. "He's seen me looking worse."

"That's not what I meant," Tonks said, apparently frustrated that Ginny hadn't risen to her baiting. _She was exhausted minutes ago, what the hell happened? _Ginny thought, the urge to escape this room suddenly quite forceful. For the moment she was trapped searching her things, however. Tonks sobered and continued. "I suppose there are worse people you could run into… like Snape." Ginny grimaced and Tonks crinkled her nose as she continued, "or worse yet, Dung. The worst Snape would do is sneer at you, but Dung may actually try to get a look in."

Ginny shivered, both in disgust and anger. Tonks was right. As much as she hated Snape, it was nothing compared to how she felt about dodgy Dung. If the man had just done his job keeping watch, Harry never would have had to face those dementors last summer or go to trial. "You're right. He's always lurking about or doing something shifty." A thought occurred to her. "Maybe I should see if Kreacher can make it so that he only has access to the front hall and the kitchen."

"Not even the bathroom?" Tonks asked.

"Nope," Ginny replied with a twisted smile.

Tonks laughed. "The tosser probably deserves it." She turned pensive then, mulling it over. "It really isn't a bad idea. His contacts make him useful to the Order, but at the end of the day the only person Mundungus cares about is himself."

Ginny nodded and added it to her list. Looking at her clothing once again in dismay, she gave up and grabbed the best fitting, least worn pair of slacks she could find along with a never-worn jumper that Luna had gifted to her second-hand, claiming it "attracted Nargles". Keeping her back to Tonks, she slid a soft pair of worn knickers on under her dressing gown before pulling the slacks over them. Despite being the only pair that came close to fitting, they were still tighter than she would have liked over her bum. She had just removed the dressing gown to slip on her bra when she heard Tonks whistle behind her.

She covered her chest and half turned in surprise, finding Tonks staring at her with an eyebrow raised. "Damn Ginny, no wonder you weren't worried. If I looked like that naturally, I wouldn't care who saw me either."

Ginny rolled her eyes, determined not to flush. Turning back around and finishing getting dressed, she replied, "It's not like it matters what I look like. Can't exactly date now, can I?" She did her best to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

As she pulled the soft fabric over her head and down her torso, she was dismayed to find that the forest green sweater was tighter than anticipated. Of course she had known that Luna was slighter than her, but she had hoped that her shorter height would have made a difference. Unfortunately, the V was far too low to be appropriate and she was forced to search the floor for the white undershirt she had cast aside earlier.

When she finally found was she was looking for, Tonks was still staring at her. This time, there was something calculating about her look. "I don't know if you've noticed Ginny-girl, but Harry still belongs to the male-subset of the species and there is no possible way that he could not notice those curves," she finished with a wave at Ginny's chest.

Ginny huffed. She didn't want to even touch the subject of Harry in those terms. Instead she focused on the fact that she wasn't even fifteen yet and her chest was far from fully developed. It was just because the rest of her was so damn small that it seemed like they were larger than they were and some boys had suddenly noticed.

Michael had shown interest in touching her chest on more than one occasion, though she had always swatted his hand away, knowing that was not a direction she wanted to head in with him. She had even caught Dean's eyes dropping down to her chest when he asked if he could write her this summer, which had been mildly amusing and somewhat flattering. Then there had been Nott-. She cut off that line of thinking quickly, wrenching the jumper off and redressing with the undershirt in record speed so that she could escape.

Hastily, she said, "I'm done here. Get some rest, okay?"

She made to slip by Tonks without further conversation, but a hand grasping her wrist forced her to stop.

Tonks met Ginny's eyes seriously, remorse clear there. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't mean to push. It's just easier to focus on trivial things sometimes… it's just been very stressful lately and it felt good to just…" she shook her head, giving up. "I'm sorry for taking it too far. I've always thought we were close and it felt natural to joke around. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now too."

Ginny felt her earlier ire melt away. Tonks really meant no harm. It wasn't like when her brothers teased her about Harry. With a forgiving smile, Ginny leaned down and hugged her. "It's fine, Tonks. Under normal circumstances, I probably would have given it as good as I got, but today is… Never mind. You just need to get some rest, okay?"

Tonks released her, nodding in relief as the exhaustion set back in. "Thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," Ginny replied as she made her way out the door. She paused at the threshold, however, and turned back. "One more thing, Tonks. Be sure to tell Lupin I said that Harry needs him around, okay?"

Tonks nodded in affirmation. "I will. I think it would do Remus good as well, having that kind of purpose."

"Good. Now stop thinking about how good I look naked and go to sleep!" Ginny admonished as she quickly shut the door behind her. There was a muffled sound against the closed door that she assumed was a pillow hitting the spot her face had just been. With a light laugh, she made her way up the stairs to Sirius's room. It was as good as any place to finish getting ready for the day and her favorite room besides.

As she made her way up the staircase, she focused on resettling her thoughts. How she looked and how a certain someone may react to her appearance were irrelevant aside from what the Goblins thought. Instead, she began assembling her list for today.

First, she needed to try to get in touch with Bill again. She needed to know what to expect as well as finish their conversation from yesterday. Second, she needed to figure out how she was getting to Gringotts and who would be accompanying her. While she was confident in her ability to get there and back on her own, it was clear from the way Harry was always monitored that she should expect her mother to demand she have an escort who belonged to the Order. Third… well, she wasn't sure what kind of state she would be in once she left Gringotts and decided there was no point in speculating at the moment.

It seemed like there was only one thing she actually had control over at the moment. Quietly, she called, "Kreacher."

The wizened elf appeared before her with a pop. Bowing, he croaked, "Mistress has summoned Kreacher. What can Kreacher do for Mistress Ginevra?"

She was still unsure how she felt about the elf. She wanted to cling to her hatred, but knew it would be unfair; she was also afraid of what kind of damage he could cause if their relationship took a turn for the worst. She did her best to be courteous, however, knowing that his willingness to follow her orders was nothing short of a miracle.

"Thank you for coming, Kreacher," Ginny said politely; he may not have had a choice, but he was demonstrating a new civility between them that she was determined to maintain. He bowed in acknowledgement. "I was wondering if it were possible for you to limit the access visitors have to certain areas of the house?"

Kreacher nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mistress. House elves be doing such things quite frequently with the children, preventing them from going into Master's study and the like."

"These wouldn't be children though. I was actually hoping to bar all visitors except for my family and a select few from the majority of the house. You know, like limiting access to the front hall and the kitchen for most of the Order," she bit her lip, considering how large of a task that would actually be. "Would that be a problem?"

Kreacher shook his head in the negative and Ginny felt relief swell within her. While it would still have been helpful to limit access to the study and Sirius's bedroom, she was much more comfortable with her original plan.

In his croaking voice, he said, "Tis the way old Mistress had it before she died. Not even Miss Cissy could enter then, only the bad Mast-" Ginny was distracted from her distaste for Narcissa being referred to as "Miss Cissy" when Kreacher's words abruptly cut off. He seemed to choke on his words, and she recognized that he had been about to insult Sirius, something she had barred him from doing. He closed his eyes and swallowed before continuing with a look of distaste, "Only _Master Sirius _could enter. _He_ changed it to allow… _anyone_ in."

Ginny frowned internally, hating the lingering animosity the elf held for Sirius, though she understood it. She also knew that not just anyone could access the house, only those with the secret, but she didn't expect Kreacher to care about such things. She knew what he meant by the way he emphasized "anyone". He hadn't said anything disrespectful, however, and she knew he couldn't be blamed for the way he had been indoctrinated to hate those who did not meet the criteria of being pureblooded bigots.

"Right," she replied neutrally. "Well, I would like you to do that, then. Set the protections so that anyone who isn't a Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks or Remus Lupin from accessing any area of the house that is not the front hall, stairwell to the kitchen, or the kitchen itself. Please," she added respectfully.

"It shall be done, Mistress Ginevra," he replied obligingly. She briefly wondered if his willingness to help on this particular task was because it was something Walburga Black would have (mostly) approved of. "Is there anything else Kreacher can do for Mistress?"

Thinking for a moment, it occurred to her that there were others that she likely would want to give access to, particularly those who she planned on asking for help training from, like Mad-Eye or Andromeda, but she didn't want to do so until she knew they could be trusted. "Will I be able to give certain individuals access to the rest of the house later? Or will you have to recast the protections all over again? I don't want to make more work for you, but I do think it's important."

"It can be adjusted." The elf nodded, more to himself than her it seemed, as he said lowly. "It _is_ important. Mistress and especially Master's things must be protected now that old Mistress isn't on guard anymore."

Ginny wasn't sure which Mistress or Master to which he referred - from his ancient age it was clear that he had had many - or even what things had been being guarded, but she affirmed the statement anyway. "Thank you for helping me with this Kreacher. That is all for now."

The elf met her eyes, the loathing from yesterday nowhere in sight, and accepted the dismissal with a bow before disappearing with another crack.

Feeling like she had at least accomplished _something_, Ginny continued onward to her destination to finish getting ready. She wasted no time in sitting at the desk so that she could use the mirror there to see what she was doing as she styled her hair with her wand. Three minutes later she realized her mistake as her back started to hurt. Standing up and stretching, she muttered, "Stupid fucking chair." The kick she aimed at it in retaliation was much harder than intended and it made a loud bang as it fell to the floor.

Naturally, Harry chose that moment to enter the room. He eyes trailed from where the chair was lying on the floor to her half done hair and glinted in recognition at the way she was cradling her lower back. "Forgot about the chair, then? Let's get you something else instead."

Harry grabbed the chest used to hold extra blankets from the foot of the bed and pulled it into position in front of the desk. Ginny smiled gratefully, sitting on the chest happily and resuming her activities. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching her intently. Even without looking at him, she could feel the weight of his eyes on her. She had finally reached her limit and was about to ask, but he spoke first.

"Do you always do this?" He asked. She peeked at him in the mirror and saw a look of concentration on his face. "Your hair looks… different. Shinier?"

She laughed a bit. "Merlin, no. This is far too time consuming for me to bother with." She thought about how awkward it was to hold her arms out like this. Some sections of her hair were so long she had to fully extend her elbow to run her wand the full length of it. "Some girls do though," she added. "I wouldn't bother today, but I don't want the Goblins to feel disrespected if I don't make an effort to look nice. Thus the hair and the outfit."

His eyes trailed down, following her hand. She was fairly confident she didn't imagine the slight widening of his eyes or the slight flush of his cheeks. He quickly met her eyes again though and commented, "It's a charm, right? Maybe I could use it to try to control this mess," he said, gesturing to the unruly mass of black hair atop his head.

Ginny eyed him carefully, unthinkingly reaching out and running her fingers through his hair. She should have felt awkward, but she and Harry had been spending so much time together - and honestly had been in much more intimate positions the past few days - that it seemed natural. She dismissed the quick flare of anxiety that she had overstepped, thinking of how tightly he had held onto her in his sleep the night before, and instead focused on the texture of his hair.

It was both soft and firm, resisting all her efforts to tame it but sliding through her fingers easily at the same time. She smiled as he closed his eyes and a pleasantly relaxed expression spread across his face. It was nice to know he enjoyed her playing with his hair as much as she did. She giggled at the absurdity of the situation as his hair continued to resist her attempts to bring it to some order.

He opened his eyes, looking into hers curiously. With mock solemnity, she said, "I'm sorry, Harry, but no amount of magic will tame this." She ruffled it a little while he huffed at her teasing before she turned to resume styling her hair.

Harry kept his eyes glued to her work. After a few minutes he asked, "Maybe I could grow it out like Bill's. Think it would help then?"

Ginny turned to eye his hair with calculation. It wasn't overly thick and it had been smooth to the touch. If it were longer, it would be easier to style or at least pull back. She took a moment to imagine it and was surprised to find it fit him.

Thoughtfully, she admitted, "You know, that just might work. Though you'd still probably need to learn some styling charms to make it all lie in the same direction." Cheekily, she said, "But don't worry, I can teach you."

It was meant to be in jest, but Harry nodded and stepped closer. "Will you show me now?"

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, um, here," she said, turning around the face the mirror once more. Taking his hand and threading it through a section of her damp hair, she had him hold it out away from her head and used her other hand to raise his wand hand. Wrapping his hand around her wand with hers covering it, she dragged the flat of her wand down the length of the extended tresses, whispering "lenis adsiccus". When they pulled away, the section they had just done was had been dried, but was also smooth and shiny. Harry ran his fingers through it.

She smiled at him in encouragement. "See, it's quite easy as long as you don't try to do too much at once. I don't know if you caught it, but the incantation is 'Lenis Adsiccus'. Don't forget to stress the 'lenis' part, or it will dry too quickly and become course."

Harry pulled back a little, "Are you sure it's okay for me to do this? I don't want to ruin your hair. You've done a really good job of making it look really nice -", he quickly stopped talking and looked down. She gave him an odd look, wondering why he suddenly seemed unsure. He mumbled without looking up, "We just, we have to meet with the Goblins today and I don't want to mess up your hair. I can tell you're trying to look nice."

Hoping to put him at ease, she chuckled a bit and teased, "Wow, thanks Harry. Are you trying to say I don't usually look nice?"

He looked up startlingly quick and stuttered, "N-no. Of course not. I didn't mean-".

Her laughter cut him off and he smiled sheepishly before nudging her. "That wasn't very nice. You knew what I meant, didn't you?"

She smiled back unrepentantly. "Of course I did, but you're far too wound up and we haven't even gotten to the rough parts yet. I'm nervous enough as is, so lighten up."

"Right," he replied, shaking out his shoulders and giving her a stupid grin. He rolled back the sleeves of his jumper in mock seriousness and said, "I'm ready then. Operation Don't-Fuck-Up-Gin's-Hair is ready to commence."

The behavior was so out of character for Harry that Ginny let out a full laugh, the kind that had her tossing her head back and actually made her eyes tear up. When she calmed down enough to look at him again, she was smiling widely and saw that he was wearing a pleased but slightly embarrassed smile on his face as well.

"Too much?" he asked.

Ginny could only shake her head. "It was perfect. Thank you." She took his hand and lifted it to the last remaining damp section of her hair and said, "Now finish this up. I know you can do it."

He did it perfectly, if a bit slowly. With the gentlest possible hand and the softest whisper, he trailed both the wand and his fingers through her hair until it the final section was as perfectly smooth and shiny as the rest of it. Through the mirror in front of them, Ginny watched as Harry used his fingers to brush the section into place around her shoulders with the utmost concentration.

As he did so, she thought about how his magic felt different from hers. Though the feeling was tinged with a familiarity that she attributed to him using her wand, it was different in that it made the skin and hair he touched tingle with a radiating warmth. The feeling lingered even after he was no longer touching the area.

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly, causing his eyes to catch hers in the mirror. She hadn't realized how close he was stranding to her back until his quiet, "You're welcome," was nothing but a whisper in her ear.

A knock on the door sounded, causing both of them to pull away quickly. Before she could blink, Harry had thrown his invisibility cloak over himself and disappeared from view. She had absolutely no idea why he would be hiding, but wasn't about to give away his position if there was someone he was avoiding.

"Ginny?" she heard her brother's voice call out. "Can I come in?"

"Bill!" She exclaimed, rushing to open the door. His arrival at least explained why he hadn't answered her owl. Her fleeting excitement evaporated when she opened the door and saw the look on his face. She stopped in her tracks as her hopes plummeted.

"Hey Firefly," he said quietly, but his tone was reluctant. Just like yesterday, his face was tight in an attempt to hide his true feelings. This could in no way be a good sign. Apprehension settled on her heavily and for a moment she couldn't force herself to ask why he was there. The feeling of Harry's invisible hand on her back gave her the strength she needed.

Taking a deep breath, she said steadily, "What's happened now? You wouldn't be here if it weren't important."

He eyed her curiously, but replied, "There are a few things we should talk about, but first, have you seen Harry? Ron said that if I could find you, I would find him as well." He tried to cover up whatever was going on with him with humor, but he mostly looked uncomfortable. If she had to guess, she would say he looked guilty.

Ginny subtly held her hand out behind her back, signaling to Harry to hold off on exposing himself. "Why?" she insisted. "You're not telling me something, Bill. I don't like it."

He scowled at her. "Maybe it's because trying to keep anything from you is like trying to keep a kniffler from gold, and I'd really rather Harry hear about his own business before I tell others."

"That's it?" she asked skeptically.

"Sort of." He sighed. He began to pace and asked a bit more urgently, "Do you know where he is or not? I've already been to Gringotts this morning, seeing if I could buy us some more time. Ragnok was not in a good mood. His owls to Harry had been returned, so he asked me to pass a message to him. The last thing I want to do is piss my boss off even more, so I need to speak with Harry. I have things to talk to you about too, and I have less than an hour before I need to get to work. I'm on thin ice right now as is, so I can't afford to be late."

Sensing from his anxious words that she wouldn't get any further without Harry, she sat at the edge of the bed, leaving the spot beside her open. "Alright then. Harry and I really do still need to continue our discussion from yesterday. Right, Harry?"

On cue, Harry removed the cloak. To his credit, Bill barely reacted apart from a raised brow.

"Morning, Bill," Harry greeted, giving an awkward wave and shuffling his feet nervously. Ginny wasn't quite sure what there was to be embarrassed about and motioned him to sit beside her. Harry looked hesitant, but did so anyway. His sudden discomfort with Bill was nagging at her, but she wrote it off as Harry feeling bad for having hidden from Bill in the first place.

Bill stared at Harry for a moment, a strange look passing between the two that had Harry breaking eye contact first. Ginny didn't have the faintest idea what that was about, but it really didn't matter at present. Bill sat in the chair at the desk and wasted no time in getting to the point.

"'I'll go first." Directing his words to Harry, he explained, "The goblins have requested your presence today. There will be a reading of the will. I haven't had a chance to see it yet - the goblins won't share confidential information with anyone who hasn't been granted permission from the account owner, even their employees - but if I had to guess, I'd bet you're mentioned."

Harry stiffened, but nodded his acceptance. She wasn't sure where exactly his thoughts had taken him, but Ginny wanted to comfort him none-the-less. Uncertain how he would feel about it happening in front of her brother, or anyone really, she hesitated. His discomfort clawed at her though, so she brushed her hand against his where they lay side-by-side between them, just to test the waters. His hand twitched back toward hers and she linked their pinkies.

She nearly sighed in relief. Growing up the youngest in a household of nine, Ginny was very used to physical contact and using it to show affection or provide comfort. As long as it was someone she cared about, it was acceptable. The only person she made a conscious effort not to be carelessly physical with was Harry, because she had seen how he reacted to her mother's and Hermione's similar efforts. For whatever reason though, he seemed to be willing to accept Ginny's, and for that she was grateful.

Her ruminations of her friendship with Harry were cut short however when she saw the shifty look on Bill's face. _Damn it. I knew he was hiding something. _

"_Bill_," she said warningly.

He sent her a nasty look, but it almost immediately faded into wariness. "Look, Mum told me about the betrothal last night," Ginny stiffened momentarily, but quickly relaxed. _At least that's one thing out of the way. "_I can't say for sure, because I'm just a curse breaker, but I was talking to Fleur last night-" Ginny scowled at the mention, before remembering the French girl was now his fiancee and she would have to get used to her "- and she said this type of bonding is viewed by the Goblins as a marriage for all intents and purposes."

Ginny blanched and felt Harry's hold on her slacken.

Bill rushed to reassure them, "You're not legally married, not according to Wizarding law, but the Goblin practices for managing accounts originated far before wizarding society had a Ministry managing and recording 'legal' marriages. Magic is what really matters to the Goblins. The two of you now share a magical connection, one drawn from the Black line, so you will be treated by them as if you were married. Harry will be entitled to everything you inherit Ginny, and vice versa."

Harry's hand found hers again, this time encasing it completely, and tightened. His eyes were wide open beneath his glasses and she watched as he blinked a few times. She was momentarily surprised as well, but she hadn't bothered to read the will at all - Sirius having told her directly in his letter what he had done - so she hadn't known what it actually said. She smiled to herself, a bittersweet feeling settling over her. While she had understood the necessity of naming her heir in preventing the Malfoys or Lestranges from taking on the mantle of the Black family, Sirius still could have named Harry as his beneficiary and she hadn't understood why he hadn't. It made sense now - there was no need. She squeezed Harry's hand, causing him to look at her, and smiled brightly at him. Her smile widened happily when he returned the gesture.

Turning her attention back to Bill, smile still in place, she nodded. Bill eyed her strangely, a faintly amused expression on his face, and she became aware that they were no longer being very subtle when she felt Harry's hand spasm around hers, but she held on. Bill had just admitted that they were bound tightly enough to be considered married by the Goblins- she refused to be ashamed about holding Harry's hand after that.

"Now, brother, is that all?" she prompted.

Bill shook his head. "This… what's going to happen today isn't going to be easy. It's going to hurt."

She kept her composure, but only managed a short nod. She did know, from personal experience. The phantom pain remembered from the Chamber stung in her chest, but she focused her gaze on Bill's bright blue eyes and did her best to ignore the memories. Harry's firm grip kept her grounded.

"Did Sirius happen to leave you the Black family rings? It's not necessary to complete the ceremony, but it will make things…" his face twisted, "smoother." He gave Ginny a weighted look and her heart sank in dismay. "It won't make or break it, but the rings will accelerate the process. You know that losing the family magic will hurt, but the rings will theoretically quicken the speed with which the Black magic replaces it and shorten the amount of time you'll be weakened."

"I have them," Harry blurted the second Bill stopped speaking. "Sirius left them with my things," he explained, his demeanor one of discomfort. "I'm not sure why," he added, looking down and away.

Both she and Bill looked at him in surprise. Ginny believed his last statement to an extent, but his inability to meet her eyes told her there was something he wasn't saying. She let it slide, however, knowing their time with Bill was limited.

Bill didn't seem interested in why Harry had the rings, rather just relieved they were available at all. "Good," he exhaled. "That's good, Harry. They've apparently been in the Black family for over a thousand years, so they will have absorbed a considerable amount of magic over that time and should provide a tangible anchor for the magic to focus on as it takes root in you, Ginny." Turning back to Harry, he asked, "Would you mind getting them now?"

Harry agreed. He squeezed her hand once more before releasing her and leaving the room.

Bill turned to Ginny, hesitance and worry clear in his tone when he asked, "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Ginny?"

She blew out a breath. _No. Of course she didn't want to do this, but that was irrelevant. _She suddenly wished Harry were still here, holding her hand again. She had always felt stronger in his presence. It was one of the reasons she took to avoiding him her second year, because she didn't want to be dependent on him - she wanted to feel sure and confident on her own.

Squaring her shoulders and finding that inner confidence she had worked so hard to cultivate, she replied strongly, "It needs to be done, Bill. It would be disastrous if Narcissa Malfoy was able to gain control of the Wizengamot seat. You _know _that."

"I've been thinking about that," he said earnestly. "Mum is just as closely related as Narcissa Malfoy is. Even closer to the last Head of House Black, since she was Orion's niece by blood. We could petition-"

"Stop," she said firmly. "It would never work - the Ministry is far too corrupt. Besides, there's no time. We can't risk it." She expelled a breath, trying to maintain her temper, and calmly added, "I'm not weak. Don't let your personal feelings about this cloud your judgment."

Bill seemed to sag as he nodded reluctantly. "You're probably right," he admitted. "This just isn't something you should have to do," he lamented.

She gave him a hard look. "None of should have to be making these sacrifices, but we do it because it's right. Isn't that why you're here risking the ire of your bosses trying to get them to join our cause on Dumbledore's orders?"

"How did you-"

She didn't let him finish, continuing her list of people who were sacrificing for the cause. "Hagrid shouldn't be getting beaten to a pulp by giants, but he knows that he is the only one who has even a hope of reaching them. Lupin shouldn't be risking his life with the werewolves who hold a grudge against wizards, but he's the one at least risk by doing so. There are so many people doing things we don't even know about. We're all making sacrifices. This is mine."

"They're all of age, Ginny, and members of the order besides. It's different. You're still just a kid, or you should be," he said with regret.

"Yes," she replied. "It _is _different, because I'm not risking my life. Not like Harry did countless times when he actually was a child," she said pointedly. "The war, and Tom Riddle, will not discriminate based on age." She knew that from personal experience. Bill was very familiar with what had happened to her, so she couldn't understand where this turn in behavior had come from. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You've never treated me like this before."

Bill sighed and looked more exhausted than he had all morning. "I know you're strong, Firefly. Probably stronger than any of us, but I… I'm being selfish I guess," he said with a shrug. She raised an eyebrow in question. A shadow crossed his face and there was a deep sadness there when he explained, "Your first year," internally Ginny cringed, but her outward demeanor remained unaffected, "I didn't know what had happened yet, but when I felt your magic drain away, I apparated immediately out of the job site and to the embassy in Egypt, trying to get on the first portkey back to England." Ginny couldn't hide her surprise and Bill smiled a bit at her shocked expression. "They wouldn't let me, of course. The Goblins have security measures in place that prevent anyone from leaving a site and the country like that, to prevent thefts, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Obviously," Ginny said, hoping for dry humor, but her voice was too weak for it.

He gave a rueful chuckle anyway. "Yeah, almost lost my job for that one. That's why you all had to come see me instead of the other way around. They wouldn't give me leave after violating so many protocols."

Ginny let that sink in, her mind spinning. She wanted nothing more than to hug her brother fiercely and make sure he knew how much she loved him, but she still didn't understand how all of this was related to the topic at hand. "So, what does that have to do with…" she gestured vaguely.

"I didn't know what was wrong, but I knew I had to get to you. I had that warning." He shook his head. "That was back when you should have been as safe as you could be too. But now you're in danger - we all are - and I'll have no warning if something goes wrong this time."

Ginny's heart squeezed. After her parents had voiced their support, and the twins too, she had settled her worries over her family. She knew it was harder on her and it was acceptable that she had been focused on herself, but she still felt guilty that she hadn't considered it would be hard on her brothers as well.

She gave into her earlier urge, reaching out and hugging Bill strongly, hoping he could feel all the love and gratitude she felt toward him. Pulling back, she assured him, "I'll be fine. I'll still have Harry. He hasn't let a Weasley die yet," she finished with a wink.

Bill let out a weak laugh, but smiled just like she had hoped. "You're right." He sobered a bit. "Harry's a good one, Ginny. I know neither of you were prepared for this, but all things considered..."

"I got lucky," Ginny finished for him in a soft voice. Without realizing it, Ginny had accepted what had happened and knew that was the truth. At the end of the day, she was truly lucky that it was Harry and not some sick Death Eater. The truth was that underneath everything she used to distract herself, she was grateful for the protection offered by the betrothal; that fact only made her feel more guilty that Harry had been trapped in it with her. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks and stood quickly. To cover up her feelings she joked, "He's not very prompt though, is he? I wonder what's taking so long."

The words were hardly out when Harry entered the room, his cheeks tinged pink. She wondered what had happened to make him look so embarrassed. Neither she nor Bill got a chance to ask before her father's weasel patronus appeared before them, speaking in an urgent, hushed tone.

"Percy just stopped by the office. Things have moved faster than anticipated. He's escorting Narcissa Malfoy to Gringotts in two hours. You need to move quickly. Good luck."

Bill swore under his breath while Ginny and Harry shared a wide-eyed look. They weren't exactly ready yet. Ginny was as put together as she could hope to be, but Harry was wearing his most recent Weasley jumper and a pair of slacks that looked like they may have belonged to Ron at one point. Bill looked them both over and shook his head in agitation.

"You both need dress robes if we're going to show up unannounced," he said tersely. Ginny knew neither of them had dress robes that would fit- hell, she hadn't ever had proper dress robes, only the gown she had worn to the Yule Ball and there was no way that would be appropriate even if it had fit. Bill didn't bother waiting for their refusal, "Harry, the twins bought Ron a set last summer that should fit you now. Go find them and get changed. _Quickly,_" he emphasized. Looking at Ginny, he said, "I'll be right back. Fleur got you a set for your birthday already, so I just need to pop back to the flat and get them. Be ready." He left without waiting for a response from either of them.

Harry stood immediately, but he hesitated before pulling a small cloth bag from his pocket and handing it to Ginny. Hesitantly, he said, "The rings are in here. You should probably look at them now." He grimaced. "I doubt you'll like them any more than I did, and I don't want you to be caught off guard."

His apprehension caused her anxiety to spike, but she pushed it aside. She squared her shoulders instead, her tight grip on the bag the only thing betraying her nerves. "Thank you for the warning. I'll do that before Bill gets back, but you really should hurry. You never know how long it could take Ron to find something."

Harry looked reluctant to leave her to it, but nodded and left the room as quickly as her brother had.

When she was finally alone, Ginny released a deep breath. This was real and it was happening. There was nothing she could in good conscience do to stop it. She had the distinct urge to start messing with her hair or cleaning her fingers, but knew that would be the opposite of productive. Instead, she stood and shook out her hands and shoulders, hoping to shake off some of the tension. It worked fractionally, but it was enough to get her to open the bag and peek in.

She immediately closed the bag back up, her muscles tense. For a split second, she had seen a Basilisk eye staring up at her and froze. As Slytherin's heir, Tom had been able to look the Basilisk in the eye free from harm. Ginny had never tested whether or not it applied to her and assumed it wouldn't have worked for Harry either, as they weren't the beasts master the way Tom was, but she had seen it enough in her nightmares as she remembered things that he had left behind in her mind to recognize it. Just as quickly as she had seen it, she recognized that it was impossible and was one of the rings, but it still made her feel like vomiting.

Resolutely swallowing back the bile, she opened the bag again. She recognized the Black family signet, what would become hers soon enough, but that was acceptable to an extent. The Basilisk-esque ring must have been Walburga's, she decided, and she hated it. Worse yet, she hated that she would have to wear it for the ritual. After the ritual, once the family magic had settled within her firmly, she decided, she would never wear the blasted thing again.


	12. Chapter 11

Gringotts loomed before them. All her life, the sight of the grand white building had inspired awe and desire within her, but today it simply felt cold and foreboding. Instead of calling to mind images of luxury, it reminded her more of a tomb. None-the-less, she and Harry made their way through Diagon Alley nestled under the invisibility cloak, following close behind in Bill's wake.

_Snap out of it_, she berated herself. _It's not going to kill you. Staying alive is the whole point. _

She didn't allow her steps to falter as they followed Bill into the bank. Not a single goblin or patron so much as blinked in their direction when they entered, but every time they passed too close to a goblin there was a distinctly displeased look cast in their direction. She didn't know if they knew Bill had been trying to recruit goblins to the Order or if they could sense she and Harry were hiding under the cloak, but it didn't really matter; both options made her feel uncomfortable.

Bill ignored the unhappy glances cast in their direction as he led them directly to Ragnok's. His apparent nonchalance did nothing to settle her nerves. Her suspicion that it was an act was confirmed as he knocked stiffly on the Ragnok's open office door. When she didn't hear a response, she peeked around her brother to see what was going on.

The room was both opulent and plain. It was constructed entirely of shining white marble, unadorned by photos or other decorations aside from three chairs, a large desk, and an expansive shelf that were clearly used for attending to business matters. They were all a matched set, made from a polished dark wood that Ginny couldn't name, but recognized must be rare and expensive.

At the desk sat the goblin she assumed to be Ragnok. He was hunched over a parchment, writing furiously, an unpleasant look on his face. Granted, Ginny's experience with goblins had shown that they almost always looked this way, but there was a particularly vicious glint in his eye as he marked the parchment with clearly frustrated movements. With one last harsh poke of the quill - Ginny was surprised he hadn't put a hole in the parchment with it - Ragnok finished and place it into a tray on the desk, magically disappearing in the process. Finally, he looked up at Bill with piercing eyes.

"Mr. Weasley," he said in a dead, grating tone. "Come in."

Bill entered and they followed cautiously behind. He waited a bit longer than necessary before closing the door and stepping forward.

"Ragnok," Bill said, offering a respectful bow of his head, "We got word that another meeting has been scheduled by the Ministry on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy and thought it may be best to try to move the appointment we discussed forward, if you would find that acceptable."

Ragnok eyed him appraisingly. Harry nudged Ginny's side and she realized that his view had been obstructed by Bill. They both shifted around her brother. The movement brought them closer to the desk and Ragnok's gaze locked onto their position. She was now certain that the goblins were able to sense them under the cloak when they moved too close. He didn't look at them in disapproval, however. Instead, a twisted smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, causing his expression to become somewhat frightening and malicious in its appearance.

"Ah. I see you have completed your task in fetching Mr. Potter. Very well, we shall attend to our business now." The smile fell as he looked back at Bill, his expression turning to displeasure, as he directed, "Your business is done here, Mr. Weasley. You are dismissed."

Bill looked slightly unhappy, but made no move to protest. "Thank you, sir," he said respectfully, before he bowed again. He turned to leave, but not before casting one last concerned look about the room in the general direction they were standing, without landing on anything specific. It was then that Ginny stepped out from under the cloak, Harry following quickly behind her. She did her best to smile in reassurance. Bill nodded, looking only slightly less troubled, and left.

Turning back to Ragnok, Ginny swallowed heavily. He was looking at her appraisingly and Ginny couldn't help but feel that he was finding her lacking. She had never dealt much with goblins directly - the most she had done was stand silently beside her mother and watch quick transactions occur - and she certainly didn't know how to behave with one of such status. Deciding there was nothing she could do to compensate for that now, she tried to emulate some mixture of Bill and the lessons on being a "proper witch" Auntie Muriel had tried to impress upon her throughout her childhood.

She bowed her head as Bill had done, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Harry was following her lead. Despite how awkward she had felt putting on the set of fancy dress robes Fleur had gotten her, she was suddenly grateful that both she and Harry were at least wearing formal attire for the meeting. It lessened some of the awkwardness, making the formality she injected into her tone and posture feel more appropriate. Channeling a sense of decorum generated by her surroundings, she said, "Thank you for meeting with us ahead of schedule, Director Ragnok, sir," she shifted awkwardly and cleared her throat. "We appreciate you making time for us despite the inconvenience."

Ragnok pursed his lips, still staring a hole through her. His gaze only flicked to Harry for a moment before returning to her. She refused to give in to her urge to fidget, not wanting to betray just how much like a fraud she felt at that moment.

His tone held thinly veiled contempt as he replied, "Under normal circumstances I would not entertain such nonsense. However, the Goblin Nation honors their commitments and respects the agreements we make with our wizarding clients, even if the same cannot be said of some members of your Ministry."

"We're not particularly pleased with the Ministry either," Harry added, bitterness tinging his own tone.

Ginny worried for a moment about how Ragnok would receive that comment, but he simply smiled that twisted smile once again. He sounded almost amused as he replied, "No. I do not suppose you would be, Mr. Potter. Please, have a seat. We have much to tend to."

Ginny took a seat in one of the chairs before the desk, sighing in relief. _I guess there's something to be said for mutual dislike_, she thought. She kept silent though, sitting straight-backed and crossing her ankles, just as she had been taught. Harry sat beside her, his erect posture mirroring hers.

Ragnok placed a hand on another empty tray and stated clearly, "Sirius Black." A file immediately materialized beneath his hand, pulled magically from its usual filling space. He didn't address or even look at them as he shuffled through various pieces of parchment, and they didn't dare interrupt him. After a tense minute, he found what he was looking for, closed the file, and met their questioning eyes.

"Miss. Weasley, Mr. Potter," he began formally. Ginny would have straightened out simply at the sound of his formal tone, but her back couldn't get any straighter at this point. "As I have stated, under normal circumstances we would not have indulged expediting this event. However, Gringotts makes every effort to honor the commitments we make to our clients, particularly those coming from families that have centuries-long history with the bank." He paused and let out a disgruntled sound, "Sometimes we must bend to the will of interference by the Wizarding Ministry per various treaty agreements made over the years, but as you are here, I am assuming you are willing to agree to the conditions that have been set forth and we shall be able to circumvent this. Am I correct to assume this, Miss Weasley?"

She met his gaze and said in as strong a voice as she could muster, "Yes, sir. If the will provided to the bank is the same as what was left to us, then you are correct."

Ragnok nodded in approval and her tension lessened minutely. "We shall begin with a reading of the will in a few moments. The will provided to the institution was verified thrice. It was delivered by the Black family house elf named Kreacher, already known to the goblins here through generations of servitude, contained the Black family seal, and was signed in the blood of one Sirius Black."

Ginny winced internally. _Why must it always be blood? _Beside her, she saw Harry's fist tighten, the words that Umbridge had forced him to engrave on his own skin white against the pink flesh and she unthinkingly reached out. Her fingers gently trailed a circle around the scars and his fist loosened enough that she was able to slip her hand into his. He accepted her gesture of comfort, readily gripping her hand in return and not letting go.

Ragnok made no comment on or acknowledgement of their exchange. He continued, "Even with such verification, we would be under no obligation to see to the wishes of a criminal Azkaban escapee, were it not for the fact that Sirius Black was never formally convicted in accordance with Wizarding law, and therefore the treaties regarding the handling of accounts and inheritances of those sentenced to life in prison do not apply to him." He looked down and began sorting the paperwork before him into three piles. "I mention this now, because it is through these laws that some of the inheritance you are set to receive has been acquired, but that will be discussed in further detail when we review the contents of the Black family inheritance. I cannot provide you with any more detail than that until the proceedings have finished and you have formally accepted the position of Head Black. If there are no questions, let us get to the reading and discuss the details later," he finished, offering each of them a short stack of parchment.

Ginny took the extended document and recognized it as a copy of the will. She couldn't help feeling grateful that she and Harry only had duplicates. The thought of holding Sirius's blood in her hands made her stomach roll, and she was certain the feeling would have been worse for Harry. He didn't let go of her as he took his copy for Ragnok. They looked at each other, both agreeing with a nod that they were ready.

Harry's hand around hers tightened in reassurance. Taking a deep breath first, she looked to Ragnok and declared, "We're ready."

Ginny and Harry listened patiently as Ragnok read from the will, outlining how Ginny was set to receive everything Sirius personally owned without condition. Despite her earlier bravado when discussing their agenda, her nerves rose the longer the goblin read. She managed to only visibly flinch once, when Ragnok first mentioned that conditions of becoming the Head of House Black.

"The aforementioned inheritance also includes status as the Black heir, including all rights and responsibilities of the Head of the House of Black and is predicated on Miss Weasley's willingness to relinquish her born familiar magical ties and accept the Black magical line as her own," he read emotionlessly. It crossed her mind that he could have simply been commenting on the weather, as if it didn't mean having something deeply personal and intrinsic rooted out of her by force and augmented by something completely foreign.

She was determined to stand fast to her course, but couldn't pretend that she didn't hate it. _There are worse things that could happen to you_, she reminded herself, bolstering her courage. Her tension lingered, however.

Harry's grip on her hand loosened. A small part of her wanted to grip him tighter and beg him not to let go. As much as it pained her to admit it - as much as she hated herself for being so weak - she didn't think she could do this without him supporting her. Her fears were unfounded, however, and the panic faded as he threaded their fingers together and tightened his grip.

It still amazed her to have him so comfortable with her. A small part of her thought there was always a chance that he was like this with everyone he was closest to when they were in private. _We've never been that close_, it said logically. But she had been close enough, and had seen how he flinched at even casual contact when it was unexpected, and the larger part of her insisted it wasn't normal. Now wasn't the time to consider, however, and she squeezed his hand in gratitude.

"... all of which is to be held in joint ownership with Harry James Potter, as is allowed under the the Goblin Laws, which allow for magically bonded couples to be considered one legal entity by Gringotts Bank."

Ginny and Harry remained stoic, listening to Ragnok continue with their hands clasped, since Bill had already explained this earlier today. He had not told him what came next and they both jerked in shock.

"If Miss Weasley is unwilling or unable to agree to these terms, then Mr. Potter is next in line, as per his eligibility in accordance with his bonded status to Miss Weasley, under the same conditions-"

Harry's hand tightened painfully around hers before straightening up and leaning toward Ragnok, resolution shining out of him. He didn't spare her a glance, looking directly at Rangnok and cutting him off as he said firmly, "I'll do it."

Ginny yanked him back by the hand and glared. "You don't get to make that call, Harry. The decision is mine, not yours," she said forcefully.

"But you don't have to do this! I can-" Harry eyes were wild, desperate, but she still cut him off, unwilling to even humor him. There were so many facets that he clearly hadn't given a thought to.

"No. You _can't_," She said resolutely. "Have you even thought about what it means?"

"Of course I have. It's going to hurt you, and you're going to feel disconnected from your family. I don't want you to have to go through-"

"And I won't allow you to do it in my place," she said firmly, but more gently than before. Of course he had only thought about what it meant for her and not for himself._ It was such a Harry thing to do. _Softly, aiming to keep the words between just the two of them, she said, "Harry, I know how much a connection to your parents means to you and I won't let you give that up. My family is still here, I don't need this." She took both his hands in hers now, rubbing circles on the backs as she continued, "Everything will be fine. You don't need to take on the world by yourself. If it's down to me or you, I _want _to be the one to do it." She also knew all about his mother's sacrificial protection and refused to allow it to be compromised any more than it already had; that wasn't something to be mentioned here however.

Harry gripped her hands tighter in his, the conflict raging within him obvious by the tormented look on his face as his eyes searched hers. She kept hers resolute, but tried to be reassuring as well. She knew it was hard for him to let other people carry the burden when he felt it should have been his duty, but she would never allow him to do this in her stead. When he nodded, she felt something loosen in her chest and warmth spread through her in its place. Despite the grimace on his face and his obvious reluctance to do so, he still trusted her in allowing her to help carry the burden he felt belonged to him. The knowledge both gave her courage and made her feel powerful.

Turning back to Ragnok, who they had so rudely interrupted, she said, "Apologies, Director. We did not mean to interrupt the proceedings. That news was rather unexpected. We beg your pardon and will refrain from doing so again." She still felt rather ridiculous trying to speak so formally, but she really didn't want to upset him any further.

The Goblin eyed them dispassionately, looking slightly vexed, but nodded. "Very well, then. Let us carry on with these proceedings, so that we may move on to the ceremony that will allow you to accept your new position as Head of House Black."

The rest of the will reading passed in a blur to Ginny as her nerves rose. She determinedly kept her hand in Harry's, maintaining a steady pressure, so as not to tip him off. She couldn't pretend not to be nervous, but she could at least keep him from seeing the worst of it. He didn't need that on his conscience. She instinctively knew he was still wondering if he made the right call in backing down over who would become the heir, even if he didn't really have a choice.

Finally, Ragnok straightened the parchment before him and looked up at them. "That completes the reading of the will. Do either of you have any questions?"

They both responded in the negative, their hands gripping one another tightly all the while.

Ragnok nodded his approval, "Then you both need to sign the original document, acknowledging your presence here today and acceptance of what has thus far been stated." He pulled out a black feathered quill and handed it first to Ginny. Harry's hand clenched down on hers tightly enough to hurt hers almost simultaneously. Her eyes darted to him at the pain, only to find him staring daggers at the quill; his jaw clenched so tightly that it had to hurt, his eyes hard. _Oh. _She knew what kind of quill this was.

Careful not to show any emotion, she looked at the will before her. Sirius had written it in his own hand. The signature just spaces above hers was his, written in his own blood. It both turned her stomach and created a sense of longing so strong that her chest hurt, but she kept it all locked tightly within herself. With deliberate ease, she unflinchingly signed her name with the quill, the words "Ginevra Molly Weasley" appearing in her own blood on the page.

Gently removing her hand from his, Ginny handed the quill to Harry. The slight hesitation was enough for her to pick up on and she tried to meet his eyes. His gaze was locked onto the quickly fading imprint of her name on the back of her hand. She wanted to smile at the overreaction - it hadn't even hurt that badly - but knew she couldn't write off what he had been through the last time he had used a quill like this. Given how quickly her hand was healing, the scars on his hand were evidence of how truly terrible his experience with Umbridge must have been.

"Harry," she said gently. His eyes finally rose to meet hers, softening as they did so. She smiled reassuringly. "It's only for a moment. Remember why we're doing this."

He nodded tightly in response, not truly relaxing but agreeing none-the-less. He quickly signed his name, not wincing in the slightest as it appeared on his hand, and dropped the quill immediately after. His quickly healing hand sought hers and she took it without hesitation, offering him another smile in an attempt to put him at ease.

She looked back to Ragnok. He was just finishing the filing of the documents before looking up at Ginny specifically. "Miss Weasley, while there are several rituals that could be used to allow you to take the position of Head of House Black, the easiest of them uses the Black family rings. Do you have them in your possession today?"

She nodded, her throat dry. Harry spoke up for her, "Yes, sir." He reached into his pocket, removing the bag containing the two rings and handed it to the goblin. The first thing she had done when she had seen him again was force them back into his possession. She knew she'd have to take them back, that at the bare minimum, she'd be forced to wear Orion's for the ritual, but she didn't want to have them on her person any longer than necessary.

Her chest tightened with nerves as Ragnok pulled the rings from the bag. The time to actually have to face the consequences of her decision had arrived. Each beat of hear heart spread coldness throughout her body like ice in her veins as the anxiety spread. The one warm spot that remained was her hand where it intertwined with Harry's. Suddenly it didn't matter how weak it made her feel, all she wanted was more of the security and comfort he brought her. She refused to voice it, however, knowing the last thing she wanted to do with give Harry any reason to believe that she shouldn't be the one doing this.

Ragnok picked up Walburga's ring, inspecting it from multiple angles and speaking some strange words in Gobbledegook. Ginny watched, simultaneously sickened by the sight of the ring and unable to look away from the strange actions her was performing. When he finished his chant, the ring glowed brightly. He performed the same on Orion's ring, yielding similar results, though Ginny noticed the glow was not as bright this time.

"Excellent," Ragnok nodded to himself, before looking at Ginny once more. "It is a good thing you provided both rings. I was concerned you would only bring the signet ring, under the assumption that Orion Black had been the last Head of house Black." Ginny's eyes widened at the implication and Ragnok gave her a knowing look. "Yes, I see you understand. While it was kept quiet, Walburga Black did take on the position after her husband died, hoping to leave the Black family legacy in the hands of her own relations, as she disapproved of her husband's closest remaining family."

Ginny understood. Walburga Black had hated the Prewitts and especially her mother for marrying a Weasley, so it made sense that she had taken steps to ensure it passed through her own bloodline instead. She didn't understand how the Black inheritance could have gone to Sirius and then her and Harry if that were the case though.

"However, her most recent will designated Bellatrix Lestrange as her heir. Once Mrs. Lestrange had been sentenced to life in Azkaban by the Wizengamot, she was no longer an eligible recipient of the estate and the will was deemed invalid per Gringotts' agreements with the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately for Mrs. Black, she never submitted another will before her death, and the estate reverted back to the next eligible Black, Sirius Black."

Ginny and Harry nodded along, indicating their understanding. They had already discussed how Sirius's inheritance and ability to designate it to them had worked. There was only one question Ginny had now.

"So what does Walburga being the last Head of the family mean? Her ring was brighter. Does that mean I have to…" Ginny swallowed heavily. "Do I have to wear… _that?_"

"Indeed, Miss Weasley." Ragnok replied. "The ritual we are about to perform will leave you weakened as the Black family magic replaces the Weasley family magic you are accustomed to relying on. The female Black ring has actually spent more time on the hand of Heads of House Black than the traditional male signet ring." Ragnok smiled maliciously, unnerving her. "The males of the Black family have a tendency to be combative and often die before their time. Most of the wizarding world is unaware of it, but the Black women have spent more time running that house than the men. As such, this ring," he held of the disgusting work of art, "will provide the best focus for the magic and will help the process complete faster. However, both rings would be wisest. I have heard it can be quite… overwhelming, however. Some cannot bare it and use only one focus. We shall see how you fare."

With those ominous words, he began to assemble the pieces he needed for the ritual. All too quickly, she was standing alone before Ragnok, with the Black family rings and a goblin ceremonial knife before her. Ragnok had instructed Harry to stand back, so that his magic would not interfere. She kept her chin up, but she had wanted to whimper as Harry was letting go of her hand.

The ritual began with Ragnok chanting in Gobbledegook, the rings lighting up once more. Eventually, he began speaking in English again, asking her to repeat the words back. She diligently repeated the words, relinquishing any ties to the Weasley line and declaring her loyalty, life, and magic to the House of Black, but she hardly processed any of it. There was a momentary shock of pain as the knife pricked her finger and Ragnok pressed a droplet onto the top of Walburga's monstrosity of a ring.

She felt it the moment the ritual began to root the combination of her parents magic out of her, all of it being drained except for that small section that originated from the Black line to begin with. It felt as if her magic had been a tub full of water and someone had pulled the plug, allowing all of her energy, both magical and physical, to slip away down the drain with it. As her energy ebbed and she weakened, pain so fierce it made her nauseas filled the gaps. A small part of her prayed she could hold the sickness back, unsure that her body had the strength to even force bile out of her throat without causing her to suffocate on it.

The small pool of Black magic that remained felt foreign now that it had separated from the rest of the magic she had always known since birth, but it was enough to keep her conscious - enough to prevent her from becoming lost entirely like she had been in the Chamber. Still, the pain and the feeling of something _not right _with her magic made the experience far too similar for her liking. Suddenly there was a surge in the Black magic within her and she became more aware, now able to feel that one of the Black family rings had been placed on her hand while she was hovering on the verge of passing out.

As Ragnok continued the ritual, she felt the magic flowing through the ring and into her at a steady pace, allowing her to fully come back to herself. She still hurt and felt weak enough that she worried her legs may give out, but at least she could hear and see what was going on around her.

She glanced down at Walburga's ring. Despite appearing as normal and cool to the touch as ever - and by that she meant as disgustingly reminiscent of the Basilisk as when she had first laid eyes on it - the metal felt hot where it wrapped around her finger, almost searingly so, but it was better than the feeling of being on the verge of death as she had felt moments ago.

At least, that was what she thought until she discovered what it felt like as the second ring was slipped onto her pointer finger by Ragnok. Instead of simply doubling, the magic coursing through rose exponentially as the two focal points worked together to funnel the magic into her. Suddenly it was too much, too intense where the magic was being directed and she instinctively fought against it. The only thing should could even begin to describe it as would be like receiving a continuous lightning strike to the hand. Despite the weakness she had felt moments ago, every muscle in her body now clamped tightly, and for the first time since the ritual began, a scream forced its way through her clenched teeth.

Almost instantaneously, she felt Harry wrap his arms around her from behind. The pain had eradicated all her primary senses - touch, scent, taste, sight, hearing - yet she knew he was there. She couldn't have explained her knowledge that it was him in any other way than that she _felt _it through the magic. She had known they were connected magically, a connection created by magic drawn from the Black family line, but she could never have anticipated that she would be able to feel it so clearly. She vaguely heard Harry's urgent tones addressed to Ragnok and the Goblins skeptical reply, but she couldn't focus past the pain. She did feel it abruptly stop when Harry removed Orion's ring from her finger.

She sagged against him in relief, her body spent as her muscles loosened. Part of her wanted to yell at him, demand he put it back on her so that she would recover faster. Being magically weakened at a time like this would pose a risk to both of them and she would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to him because she couldn't withstand a little pain. The larger part of her was far too tired to even contemplate trying to be that tough at present.

Then she felt more magical energy flowing into her, except it was coming from a different source, much softer and more comforting than the flow that originated from Walburga's ring. This energy, although clearly still that of the Blacks, was tinged with something far more familiar and intimate. Forcing her heavy eyes open, she looked down and saw Harry's hands wrapped around her middle keeping her upright, Orion's ring on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Unable to actually form words, she focused on forcing her hand to slide up over top his. The squeeze she gave him was probably the weakest thing he had ever felt, but it was all she could muster. Regardless, he seemed to understand and whispered in her ear, "I've got you, Gin. I promise."

Ginny tried to nod, but was fairly confident she failed before she drifted into unconsciousness. Even in the unknown darkness, she could feel Harry's presence beside her and knew she was safe, because Harry felt like home.

When she came back to herself, she was met by disorientation. She was warm, too warm, as if she had a fever. Overall, she felt _wrong._ It would actually make sense if she were sick, as everything hurt and her head spun. It reminded her of that time she got drunk with Fred and George, but she couldn't remember drinking and the tell-tale foul taste of fire whiskey wasn't lingering in her mouth. Cracking her eyes open, she was met with far too much light and she let out an involuntary moan as the pain in her head spiked.

A pair of arms tightened around her, letting her know that it wasn't just her physical weakness locking her into place. She inhaled a surprised breath, panic setting in at being so vulnerable. The fear immediately dissipated as the scent registered, as did the voice that spoke to her at her movement.

"Gin?" _Harry_. "Hey, you okay?" Worry saturated his tone and his fingers brushed through her hair.

She kept her eyes closed and hummed at the comfort the action brought. _It's even better than when Mum does it, _she thought as memories floated through her mind of the similar ministrations her mother always bestowed upon her when she was ill. He even felt like the Burrow always did, welcoming and soothing in a way that she hadn't felt in almost two years now. _Why is Harry taking care of me, though?_

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she leaned more purposefully into him. He tilted his head forward, bringing his face to rest against the top of her head. The warm breaths he released there spread comfort throughout her body, dispelling some of the general sense that something was _off _within her. She felt his lips moving against her hair and heard the faintest, "Thank Merlin."

There was a rough throat clearing from nearby. The voice that accompanied it was harsh and impatient. "Yes, as I told you several times over the past three minutes, while the effects of the ritual are disorienting, they are not harmful. Miss Black seems to be fighting the process, but she will be entirely fine once the magic is settled." The words stirred some sort of recognition in her, something unpleasant and frightening, but she couldn't focus on it quickly enough to put the pieces together, nor did she think she was quite capable of speaking yet.

She may have even drifted off to sleep again, had it not been for the feeling of Harry's words vibrating against her cheek. Harry responded sounding sheepish, "Apologies, Director." _Director. Ragnok. Goblin. Gringotts. _The connection ignited the pathway within her mind, revealing what she had forgotten, but it was something that she didn't want to face. She squeezed her eyes tighter, pressing herself closer to Harry. With more conviction, he continued, "Now what else needs to be done? Ginny should really be getting some rest."

Under any other circumstances, Ginny would have balked at the accusation that she needed rest. Right now though, she truly was dead tired and knew that she wanted to be as far away from their situation as possible. Knowledge she was trying desperately to suppress leaked across her mind. _You can't outrun this. _Her weak hands fisted Harry's robes tightly, but the fabric was all wrong, too stiff and formal for his usual wear, only further driving home the truth.

"Very well. Miss Black," Ragnok said. "Now that you have formally accepted your position, there are a few documents that need signing to accept the transfer of certain acquired assets that have been held in escrow, awaiting transfer into the Black accounts."

She knew he was addressing her, but couldn't bring herself to respond. The goblin huffed in impatience, but she just gave her head the slightest shake. Thankfully, Harry picked up on the movement.

"I don't think Ginny is feeling up to reading or signing anything. Is it possible we could wait?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. If the transfers aren't complete before your Minister arrives, Gringotts may have to transfer them to Ministry approved inheritor, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy I believe."

Harry groaned in frustration and his body tensed beneath her. She did her best to lift her head, determined to do what she could to rectify the situation. She wouldn't let that bitch win, wouldn't give the Malfoy and Lestrange families any more advantage. Unfortunately, the simple movement caused the room to spin violently and her stomach turned.

She let out a pitiful moan - she truly was feeling pathetic at this point - and Harry gently hushed her in response. His hand brushed her hair soothingly again. Leaning down he murmured in her ear, "Don't. Don't try to move. Just take it easy. I'll figure it out."

She didn't _want_ him to figure it out himself, though. He _always_ took the burdens of others on himself. She just wanted to be able to do this for him. Her present incapacitation wouldn't allow it, however, and she sagged back against him in defeat.

Ragnok spoke up again. "As a bonded couple, you maintain equal status of control over all accounts and transactions overseen by the bank." Harry's body jumped to attention beneath her and she cringed at the sudden movement. His attention was fully on the goblin before them. "Mr. Potter, you may oversee and accept these transactions in Miss Black's stead if she is willing."

Drumming up as much energy as she could muster, she hoarsely said, "Yes." The one word was all she could manage, but it seemed to be enough.

The exhaustion crept its way through her body and mind again, sending her into a state somewhere between waking and sleep. The steady rise and fall of Harry's chest didn't increase her sense of vertigo, the way she would have expected, but instead soothed her. She was only vaguely aware that they were talking. Her mind was too tired to even try to guess at what that might be.

She woke when Harry shifted purposefully. "Gin?" He asked, his tone concerned. She wondered if he had said her name more than once, because his hand was on her cheek and tilting her head back. His bright green eyes were looking intently at her. "I have to move you for a minute. Do you think you can sit up in the other chair?"

If she were being honest, she wasn't sure that she could actually. It wasn't something she was about to admit, even if she were able to form that many words, however. Quietly, her voice still raspy, she replied with a quick, "Yeah."

Harry's eyes roamed over her face. He didn't say anything, but he still looked concerned. The gentleness with which he placed her in the chair further supported the idea that he wasn't quite sure she'd be okay. Smartly, he had placed her sideways in the chair, so that her legs were curled up and the arm supported her back, letting the chair do most of the work. She could probably just fall right back to sleep until it was time to leave. Still, she forced herself to keep her eyes open and look at Harry. Even though she was properly seated now, his hands lingered, one at her neck and the other on her side, making sure she wouldn't fall. He had waited until she met his gaze to let go. In one quick motion, he dropped his hands and turned to the desk, as if any scant millisecond he could save mattered.

Ginny might have laughed if the situation were different. As it was, however, Harry's hands leaving her had the same effect as being dropped in a cauldron full of ice. Her skin burned from the coldness that now crawled all over her and the unfamiliar feeling of an intruder within her body flared. She curled into herself defensively, her breathing coming in great gasps as the panic hit.

_She'd felt this way before._

With her eyes closed tightly, the opulent white room faded from her memory and she would have sworn she was in the depths of the Chamber of Secrets again. If she opened her eyes, she knew she would see it, that horrible statue of Salazar Slytherin and the ghostly, solidifying image of Tom Riddle standing over her. She felt her magic being rooted out, merged with something foreign. Already, she could feel the dirt and grime under her nails, knowing that no matter how clean they looked, her hands would always be stained with the guilt of what she had done.

As quickly as the panic attack came, it retreated. Warmth rushed back in and she came back to herself, noting she had been lifted out of the chair once more. _Harry_, she knew. It wasn't like being warmed by a fire, it was more like the sensation provided by hot chocolate after a run-in with dementors, like warmth from within spreading outward, both physically and mentally. There was nothing that gave her that feeling more than Harry did. Even more tired than before, she sagged into him.

The bloody Chamber was always there it seemed. Usually it hovered just out of range, waiting to surge into her consciousness at the least opportune moment, but at present it was front and center. How could it not be? The only time she'd ever felt this horrible had been waking up in that horrible, dank cavern after coming back from the brink of death.

There was nothing she hated more about herself than that weakness. Harry had barely put her down for a moment before she had a panic attack. She needed to pull herself together. It wasn't fair for him to have to take care of her like this, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would feel like he had to. Like he owed it to her somehow because she was the one to take on the Black name instead of him. _Pull it together- if not for yourself, do it for him. He'll be in danger if he's too focused on you. _

The last thought is what really hit her. Harry had almost died before because of her weakness. He was now stuck with her and had lost his chance to find a wife to build a family with because of the choices she had made back when they were children. There was nothing she could do to change those things, but she could stop being weak now. She could become an asset instead of a liability. She owed him that much.

Her determination firm, she forced herself to lift her head, bringing her face with in centimeters of his, and smiled weakly at him. "I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." The words were no less raspy and weak sounding than her earlier ones, but he looked reassured at having heard more than one word from her.

His forehead touched hers as he exhaled in relief. The warmth increased, almost uncomfortably so, but not quite, not like it had been when she had first woken. Like stepping into a warm bath, she was becoming accustomed to it. It didn't really matter if being close to Harry made her feel warmer than she should; it was preferable to the fire she had felt burning her when she had been wearing both Black rings and much better than the cold she had felt alone. And there was nothing more comforting than Harry…

_Snap out of it._

As if he had heard her thoughts, he pulled back from the intimate position and began walking toward the door as he spoke. "We're all done now, Gin. I'm going to get you home and then you'll be able to rest, okay?"

"Okay," she replied as firmly as she could, the lack of strength behind it clawing at her. She forced herself to keep her eyes open and lift her head. It felt like it was filled with lead for all the effort it took to do so, but she persisted. If she was going to occupy his hands, the least she could do was keep an eye on their surroundings.

Even carrying her, Harry somehow managed to open the door where they found Bill waiting for them. It seemed he had been there for some time, as he had been agitatedly pacing while rubbing his chest when she saw him. She caught the way he sagged in relief at the sight of them, but also the way his face fell into sad lines.

It was still comforting to see her big brother and she loved him as much as ever, but there was no familiar pull of her magic recognizing one of its own. It was something she had never even noticed used to be there until it was gone. The look on his face had told her he felt the difference too.

He forced a smile for here. "Hey Firefly. You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, forcing her own smile in return.

Harry huffed, readjusting his grip. "No," he said tersely. "She's not fine. We need to get out of here, and we're not going to fit under the cloak like this. Isn't there any other way out of here besides going back up the alley to the Leaky?"

Bill shook his head. "Not from here. Gringotts has blocked access to properties under the Fidelius through the floo system here to help prevent thieves from escaping. If you head the other way down the alley though, Fred and George would let you use theirs." He grimaced before continuing, "I'd help, but I've already spent my lunch break and then some waiting out here. I'll never get permission to leave now."

Ginny looked up and saw Harry's pinched look as he thought it over. He nodded quickly, though he still looked concerned. "Right. We'll just have to do that then and hope we're not spotted. At least there are fewer people that way."

Bill began leading them down to the entryway. The sound of Bill's name ringing down the hall caused them to pause as her brother turned around happily.

"Fleur!" He greeted, confirming what Ginny already knew - she'd recognize those throaty tones as belonging to Fleur no matter what state she was in. The phlegm-like accent was even worse than she remembered. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't feeling well."

Fleur answered Bill, but Ginny ignored it. Even if she hadn't been too tired to try and decipher the accented English, she would have been distracted by the warmth in her brother's tone and demeanor. It made her feel guilty for thinking so poorly of the girl; if she made Bill this happy then she couldn't be as bad as Ginny had thought. She resolved to try and give the French girl another chance and did her best to follow along with what she was saying.

"- your brother has already arrived with Madame Malfoy. They are arguing in the grand hall at the moment. It would be best if we can get Harry and Ginny out of here unseen."

Bill rubbed a tired hand across his face. "I was trying. I brought them in under an invisibility cloak, but it won't cover them like that and Ginny isn't in any condition to walk."

Fleur turned and gave Ginny an appraising gaze. Despite her resolution to give Fleur a chance only moments ago, the assessing look on the perfect part-Veela face before her raised Ginny's ire. She squirmed in Harry's grasp and said, "Put me down. I can do this. I'll be fine."

Harry didn't look remotely convinced, but still respected that she didn't want to be argued with. He gently lowered her feet to the ground, but kept a firm grip on her. Much to her disappointment, she swayed and it was only Harry's reflexes that managed to keep her up. Embarrassed and angry, Ginny felt the absurd urge to cry and buried her face in Harry's chest. The comfort his arms brought as they wrapped around her made her feel even more pathetic.

A hand gently gripped her shoulder. She turned to see Fleur offering a vial of Pepper-Up potion. "Take it. It may be enough to get you out of here."

Ginny took the vial, swallowing it quickly. Whatever bad feelings she had toward Fleur were not enough to make her think she had anything to fear from her. She felt the steam as it poured out of her ears and nose, a modicum of strength returning to her in the process. Her feet and legs were suddenly cooperating again, even if they felt heavier than normal. She sighed in relief, feeling Harry do the same as she stood more soundly.

Discomfort warred with her relief, however. She knew she had to thank Fleur for her help, but despite feeling much better physically, it was going to be difficult. It was as close as she could make herself come to apologizing for thinking poorly of the girl, however, and she hated apologizing. Hell, she hadn't even apologized to Harry for her part in their fight last night and she _liked_ _him_. Grimacing internally, she promised herself she'd rectify that later.

Focusing on the present, she swallowed her pride. She forced herself to look Fleur in the eye and said, "Thank you, for the potion and for the robes."

"You're welcome," Fleur replied, taking Ginny's hand and squeezing gently. Her eyes were soft and the smile she wore warm. For the first time, Ginny didn't feel like Fleur was looking at her with condescension, and her answering smile was small, but genuine. "Let us go now. I'll lead you, but we must hurry. I do not know for how long the potion will last."


	13. Chapter 12A

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. There was nothing for it. He hardly ever managed to make it out of the floo network on his feet when it was just him, so managing it with an unconscious Ginny in his arms was nearly impossible. He knew Fred or George would have taken her for him, but he wasn't willing to let go of her after having witnessed her reaction to being put down in Gringotts.

The Pepper-Up Potion had given Ginny enough energy to follow Bill and Fleur to the main hall of Gringotts. It may have been enough to get her through their entire journey, except they had been caught up when they ran into Percy. He had been waiting to the side as Mrs. Malfoy berated the goblin at the counter over her appointment being delayed. The concerned look on Percy's face and the relief that crossed it when Bill subtly confirmed that Ginny had already taken care of everything had obliterated any doubts in Harry's mind about Percy's loyalty.

While it had been nice to have that confirmation, it had cost them precious minutes. By the time they arrived at Fred and George's shop, Harry was practically dragging Ginny along in Fleur's wake. If he hadn't been so concerned about his feet showing under the cloak, he would have insisted on carrying her. It seemed that she had been forcing herself to complete the journey to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, because she passed out almost as soon as they crossed the threshold.

The invisibility cloak had slipped off them as he caught her and prevented them from falling. The twins were uncharacteristically serious and nervous-looking when they had arrived, aware that Fleur wouldn't be there if something weren't wrong. In the brief moment that Harry and Ginny had been exposed, they had seen the state of their sister and ushered Fleur, Harry and Ginny into the back. They hadn't asked Harry any questions. Fred had simply said, "We'll come as soon as we can," and sent them on their way without another word.

And now he was tumbling forward out of the fireplace, unable to stop the momentum and panicking about how he was going to avoid crushing Ginny when they hit the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to push his elbows out, hoping to at least keep the majority of his weight off her. There was a loud crack, but no impact. Harry's eyes popped open as he felt their momentum disappearing, followed by an invisible force that gently pushed him back into a standing position. Bewildered, he saw Kreacher standing before them with his hand outstretched and a disapproving look on his elderly elfish face.

"Master must be more careful with Mistress," the elf scolded. Harry gaped at him in astonishment. He hadn't seen Kreacher since they had first arrived, and the change in Kreacher's attitude was beyond shocking. It wasn't that he hadn't believed what Ginny had told him, but he hadn't expected _this_. He didn't have time to reply before the room was flooded by the occupants of Grimmauld Place.

Mrs. Weasley's face was swollen and red, indicating she had been crying for quite some time. She looked devastated as she stared at her daughter limp in Harry's arms. Hermione stood a few steps back, her hand over her mouth and her eyes glassy, a stricken-looking Ron at her side. A bleary-eyed Tonks was in the doorway behind them all, her hair natural hair rapidly tinting with black and gray as she took in Ginny's state.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, "Is she-".

Harry shook his head, cutting her off. "I need to get her into bed. Ragnok said she should be fine, but she needs rest. We can talk about it later, after she's woken up."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and the assembled group cleared a path for them. She led them up to Ginny and Hermione's room. Harry had a brief thought to protest and insist they go to Sirius's room, but his arms were tired and he had a nervous sort of energy that convinced him it would be wise to put Ginny down before he dropped her.

Harry laid her down gently on the bed that belonged to her, but kept hold of her hand. Mrs. Weasley bustled around him, tucking her daughter in and caressing her face with a gentle hand. She had to lean around Harry as she made adjustments to the pillow and blankets, but he remained unapologetically still, staring at Ginny's unconscious form. A chair appeared behind him - with his attention so focused on praying the girl before him would wake, he couldn't be sure who had placed it there - and he sank into it gratefully, resting his head on the bed in an effort to be closer to Ginny. It made him feel better somehow.

Hermione was the one who voiced the question, "What happened, Harry?"

He wasn't in the mood to explain everything, especially since he knew other members of the Weasley family would be arriving later and he would have to repeat the story, but he knew he owed them some kind of explanation for why he had arrived with Ginny passed out in his arms.

Resigned, he said, "We got it done in time. Ragnok said this was normal, that it takes a lot out of a person." His worried gaze never left her face as he spoke. "That's all I've got to say for now. We're waiting for Ginny," he said with finality.

He felt his ire rise when no one took the hint. Mrs. Weasley had given up trying to reach around him to touch her daughter, but she still fluttered about the room. She was practically vibrating with a nervous energy as she folded clothes, straightened books, and overall fidgeted with the items in the room. Harry kept his eyes on Ginny, but couldn't ignore her completely. It set his teeth on edge.

Tonks must have noticed, because she finally said, "Why don't we go downstairs Molly?"

"What?' Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding offended. "No. I can't just leave Ginny. I have to -".

"Ginny is out for now, Molly," Tonks cut in, her voice surprisingly gentle. "I imagine she'll be hungry when she wakes. Perhaps you could make her something to eat? If there's anything you need, I'll go out and get it for you. Sound good?"

"Right. Yes," she replied shakily. Her voice firmed as she continued, "You're absolutely right. I'll make her favorite. That will help..." She sounded almost manic as she let Tonks lead her out of the room.

To Harry's dismay, Hermione and Ron didn't follow the two older women. He didn't even spare them a glance, however, nor did he bother trying to decipher the whispered argument they appeared to be having. It ended with Ron's huffed, "Fine."

"Harry?" Hermione called tentatively. He didn't respond, but she persisted. "Why are you wearing a Black ring?"

He wanted to snap at her, but held back. Somehow, he felt like Ginny wouldn't approve. He took a deep, settling breath before responding as levelly as possible, "I told you I don't want to talk about it until Ginny can be part of the conversation."

"I know," she said somewhat chagrined. It wasn't enough to stop her from continuing, however. "It's just -."

"That's enough, Hermione," Ron interjected. "I told you, we don't need to do this now. It can - _and should_ \- wait."

Harry finally looked at them. Ron was in the process of trying to guide Hermione out of the room, his look pinched and reluctant. Hermione's look was not one of curiosity like he had expected. It was apprehensive. The way she was pushing combined with the fear in her expression suddenly clicked.

"You found something, didn't you?" He asked, just for confirmation.

"We did," she admitted quietly.

She didn't elaborate, nor did Ron. Silence reigned until he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to talk, not about the betrothal or anything that happened because of it, not without Ginny, but he wanted to be left alone more than anything. Hollowly, he said, "Just say it, Hermione."

Hermione cleared her throat and began hesitantly, "I did some research this morning, and it looks like Ginny's theory was right. The Blacks do seem to live longer than most when there are no extenuating circumstances." She paused, waiting for Harry to comment. He had no interest in having this conversation.

"After that, Ron and I did some digging in the attic today, and I found a Licorus Black's journal. It mentioned his parents, who were the most recent bonded couple. His father died in a duel, decades before his mum did." The way she paused demonstrated her hesitancy to share what had happened after that.

There was really no point though. She couldn't spare him from the knowledge, not when he really already knew. Harry had felt how connected they were during the ritual; he could still feel the Black magic coursing through him and into her. There was no doubt in his mind that if the connection were broken by death, it would have a severe impact on the remaining party. Even if Hermione hadn't discovered proof of the full extent of it, he _knew_ it. The knowledge was too personal to discuss with anyone but Ginny, however.

She continued on again, seeming to understand he wasn't going to offer a response. "It said she was never the same after he died. It looks like she still had her magic, though the family debated if that was true. Even those in the family that believed she retained her magical abilities couldn't seem to agree on how much of it was left. If she did, she certainly didn't like to use it."

He nodded once, a quick short motion. There was nothing he was willing to say on the topic, not to them at least.

During the ritual he had only experienced a small portion of what Ginny was going through, but it was enough to tell him that if he died, she would undoubtedly feel it. Her magic draining away had terrified him. Until the Black magic had flooded into its place, he had felt an empty space and cold dread that was paralyzing. The sudden influx of Black magic had hardly been more pleasant, the shock of it feeling akin to touching a live wire. It hadn't truly hurt him, but there was phantom pain that he knew meant it was hurting her.

It had been an exhausting experience for him and he hadn't had the worst of it. Ginny's slumber shouldn't have been a surprise really. _Ragnok said she'd be tired_, he reminded himself. There was something niggling in the back of his mind however that told him something had gone terribly wrong and that it was his fault for letting her perform the ritual at all. _You should be lying there_, it berated him viciously. He did his best to push it aside, narrowing his focus down to her. He couldn't change what had happened, but he could take care of her now.

Mrs. Weasley tried to convince him to come downstairs for lunch, stating that skipping breakfast was bad enough. Harry had rejected the offer, though it took all his remaining self-control to do it politely. It seemed she understood, because she didn't press him again. She simply brought up a tray and some drinks that had enough for both Harry and Ginny. "Ginny might be hungry when she wakes," she had said when she delivered it, though the weak smile she attempted to give said she didn't believe it herself. Nor did the way she hung about the room for another ten minutes, reorganizing all the items she had tidied not an hour previously, until Tonks reappeared and dragged her out again.

Hours passed in this fashion. Harry refused to leave her side, worry and discomfort growing exponentially and fraying his nerves. He hadn't climbed into bed with her the way he would have liked at first, given that too many people kept coming and going, including her brothers and parents. They may have laid together in the privacy of Sirius's room, but the thought of her family seeing it made him too uncomfortable to consider it. Or so he had thought. Two hours in, his nerves shot from worrying so much and half convinced something had gone terribly wrong - that she wasn't ever going to wake up - he crawled into bed with her. Whatever her family thought wasn't nearly as important as making sure she was okay, and she had handled the magic better when he held her earlier in the day.

Various people popped in and out through the day, each briefly checking on Ginny. No one commented on his position, further highlighting the worry they all felt. They all seemed to understand that Harry wasn't ready to talk yet and left quickly after seeing for themselves that their sister and friend was more or less alright. Even the twins were uncharacteristically quiet and tactful when they arrived. So Harry was left to remain in his spot beside her in bed, her body tucked firmly against his. He played with the fingers of her hand and twirled bits of her hair silently as he continued his vigil over her sleeping form.

At dinner time, it was Hermione who tried to cajole him into eating. He refused once more; it felt wrong to leave Ginny alone in such a state. When Hermione pointed out that he would be of no use to Ginny if he passed out from dehydration and low blood sugar, he called Kreacher and had him bring him bring a plate to the room. Even relying on the elf he hated was preferable to leaving her side. He ate his meal disinterestedly with one hand, taking only small bites and keeping his attention focused on Ginny and looking for signs that something might be wrong.

It was getting on in the evening when the assembled Weasleys all filed nervously into the room with Hermione in tow. Harry's shoulders tensed. No one said anything or even looked at him - they all appeared anxious as they fidgeted and stole glances at Ginny - but he knew they were waiting for an explanation. He tried not to be too angry with the way they had marched in on him and Ginny - they had been far more patient than he would have thought them capable of, in fact - but he had deeply desired Ginny's help providing an explanation. It was her business what had happened in ritual more than his, so it should be her story to tell. While he didn't exactly want to hide anything from the others, he'd seen how she could be selective in the details she shared with them and didn't want to say something he shouldn't.

Harry had never experienced a silence quite that loud before, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. His eyes never wavered from Ginny, but he could still feel the weight of their collective gaze as it settled on him. _They have no right to demand anything, _he thought, justifying his silence to himself. The tension in the room rose higher as the silence continued.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, Mr. Weasley finally spoke. "Tonks is downstairs minding the kitchen in case any Order members should come to call, and Bill sent a message saying he should be here any minute." Desperation started to leak through his tone as he continued. "I know you wanted to wait, Harry, but can you tell us what happened?"

"Please," Mrs. Weasley tacked on, her voice wavering. "Anything at all. Shouldn't she have woken by now?"

Harry crumbled under the pain in her voice. He took in the silent people crowded around the room, their anxious expressions painting a vivid picture of them nervously sitting around the kitchen table fretting over Ginny's state, desperately wanting to know what had happened to her. It struck a chord that made him feel guilty. This was Ginny's _mother_, her _family_, and they were worried for her. He was too, honestly, and he had the benefit of knowing what had happened. It wasn't fair of him to withhold the basics.

He decided to start at the beginning, when Bill had arrived this morning. Since Bill had been present for that conversation, it really didn't matter that he hadn't arrived yet.

Forcing his eyes away from Ginny, he looked directly at Mrs. Weasley. There was no judgement in her gaze, only genuine concern for her daughter. Pretending he was speaking only to her made it easier to get the words out.

"It was like Bill said this morning," he began, thinking of their rushed goodbye earlier that day. "We were in a hurry to get to Gringotts." He turned to Mr. Weasley, "We left almost as soon as we got your patronus. It was a good thing too. Mrs. Malfoy was already there by the time we left."

The Weasley patriarch smiled a bit. It was still a sad and worried smile that more closely resembled a grimace, but Harry recognized that man was at least grateful something had gone right. "We're lucky Percy was able to get a message to me."

"We are," Bill affirmed as he slipped into the room. "Gringotts wouldn't have had any choice but to allow it if Narcissa had gotten there first."

The younger Weasley brothers shared uncertain looks. They clearly didn't trust Percy. Harry didn't really blame them, but the genuine emotion he had witnessed on their usually pompous brother's face had been so out of character that Harry couldn't allow them to doubt him any longer.

"Percy is definitely on our side," he said firmly. He looked at Bill, who seconded his assessment. A thought occurred to him. "He has a right to know what's going on too. Ginny has one of those papers. We could give him the secret. Should someone get him?"

"No," Mr. Weasley responded quickly. Harry was actually quite surprised by how forceful he had been and understood Mrs. Weasley's surprise when she let out a strangled noise beside him. He looked at his wife and said placatingly, "Not because I don't trust him dear, but he was still with the Minister when I left work. He went out of his way to tell me he'd be working late tonight. It felt like a warning not to contact him."

Most of the family exchanged uncertain looks, but Bill shook his head. "It wouldn't matter anyway. Fleur was with me when we got here, but she couldn't get up the stairs. Tonks was surprised, but admitted she and Ginny had discussed preventing Dung from accessing the rest of the house. It seems like she decided to block everyone except for us. Apparently, the same thing happened with Neville too."

Harry felt both annoyance at Neville dropping by unannounced and petty satisfaction that he hadn't been included in the group Ginny considered closest to her. _This is a family matter, _Harry thought. Even though they weren't truly his, Harry still included himself in that mix. _Neville isn't one of us._ His unkind thoughts were interrupted by Hermione.

"How would she do that?" She asked. "We don't start studying wards in Ancient Runes until seventh year."

Bill nodded. "You're right, except that it's not traditional warding as far as I can tell. From the diagnostic spells, it appears to be elf magic."

Hermione had a disapproving look on her face. Harry knew she didn't like the way house elves were used in general, but he didn't believe Ginny had done anything wrong. The way Kreacher had protected Ginny from injury and scolded him told Harry that the elf cared for her, so she must have been treating him well. Luckily, his friend made no comment on it.

The look quickly faded and was replaced with a pensive expression. She turned her attention to Harry. "He's been following your orders. He called you Master when you arrived from Gringotts. Do you think he'd explain or allow you to add permission for someone?"

"Not sure," he replied. He wasn't even that interested in finding out, but it would buy him time. _Maybe Ginny will wake up before then. _He didn't truly believe it, but he held onto the hope. In a clear voice, he called, "Kreacher."

The elf arrived with his standard crack, offering Harry a perfunctory bow. His wrinkled face pinched as he looked around the room unhappily. His expression made it clear that he was not fond of being in the company of the assembled crowd, but the fact that he made no nasty comments about anyone spoke volumes about how he had changed.

"Master called for Kreacher," he croaked.

"Yes. Um," Harry paused, feeling slightly uncomfortable commanding the elf, particularly in front of everyone. He was also unsure how to phrase his question. The others all kept quiet and offered no help, seemingly content to let Harry handle Kreacher alone. "Did you ward the house for Ginny?"

Kreacher eyed him for a moment before bobbing his head. "Mistress Ginevra asked Kreacher to protect the house. Anyone without permission can only go in the kitchen and hall," he replied, though he made no move to elaborate.

"Can you tell me who she gave permission to?" Harry pressed.

There was another pause, during which Kreacher seemed to weigh whether or not he was allowed to share such information. Instead of being annoyed at the slow progress of the conversation, Harry was relieved to see the elf's consideration for his orders.

Eventually he nodded. "Those here. The Weasley family. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks." Though he made none of the usual comments about blood-traitors, half-bloods, mudbloods, or werewolves, his tone was filled with distaste.

Harry nodded, content that he trusted everyone on the list, also grateful that she was being particularly cautious. Had it been him, he probably would have added a few more people to the list. It seemed Percy would be able to join them, but he wanted to add Fleur. She was Bill's fiancee, after all, and was nearly a Weasley.

"Add Fleur Delacour to the list, Kreacher," he said firmly, trying to make it a command.

It seemed that wasn't enough, however, as Kreacher shook his head vehemently.

"That was an order," he tried again.

Still, Kreacher shook his head in the negative, his wrinkled ears bouncing slightly as he did so. He croaked out, "Kreacher cannot do it, Master."

"Why not? You've been following all his other orders!" Ron voiced incredulously. The twins nodded along in agreement.

Kreacher cast a withering look in Ron's direction, but didn't answer the question. Starting to become exasperated, Harry repeated the question, demanding an answer.

The elf looked agitated, but responded, "Kreacher cannot because it was Mistress Ginevra's command. Kreacher must listen and obey _only_ Mistress Ginevra as his mistress. Yous is not a mistress, Master, so Kreacher listens and is 'helpful and polite'. But Kreacher will not interfere with Mistress Ginevra's orders."

Harry slumped back and considered it. It could be that Kreacher didn't _want _to help him and was being intentionally difficult, but something made him doubt it. To his surprise, he really believed the elf was just loyal to Ginny and carrying out her orders as closely as possible. If that was the case, then Harry wasn't inclined to push him to do otherwise.

He looked directly at the elf and was surprised that the familiar surge of anger he usually associated with the creature had faded throughout the conversation. His feelings certainly weren't warm, but neither were they hostile. He dismissed him with a neutral, "Thank you, Kreacher. You're free to go."

Fred broke the silence, "Well, _that_ was interesting. It seemed like he actually _likes_ her."

George nodded. "Never thought I'd see that. Wonder what it says about her that the little creep respects her?" He asked in mock-suspicion.

Mrs. Weasley made a noise at the back of her throat and turned into her husband. Mr. Weasley silently shook his head behind her. George gave a repentant nod.

Bill interrupted the silent exchange. "What happened with the ritual, Harry? From what I've heard, she should've woken up by now."

Indecision flared within him. What had happened during the ritual was something he hadn't wanted to get into. He skirted the full truth by only admitting, "Ragnok insisted she should be fine, just tired. But… things went a little wonky. Both rings was too much for her and she was fighting the magic. I stepped in," he said simply. He raised his left hand and nodded to the Black ring there. "We're bonded by Sirius's magic, so I figured maybe I could help," he explained with a shrug. "It seemed to work."

They all looked surprised, but no one asked for more detail. Most probably didn't know what to even ask, but Bill gave him a look that said he knew there was more to Harry's actions than that. Harry looked away from him and attempted to cover up the guilt he felt at withholding information. _Our connection is private_, he comforted himself. To his relief, Bill didn't press the issue. Instead, he asked a question Harry didn't have an answer to.

"Why would she reject the magic?" He seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. "If _you_ could handle it based on Sirius's magic alone, then she should have since she's a blood relative, however distantly."

Harry felt all their eyes on him like a tangible weight, pressing on his chest and stealing his breath. They expected him to know. He had no answer to give on that front, but he did know something they didn't: it didn't have to be her.

The most insecure part of him screamed that they would hate him for allowing Ginny to do this when it could have been him instead. He had to tell them though; his conscience wouldn't allow him to keep it a secret.

"It should be me lying there," he said quietly. Unfortunately the heavy silence allowed the sound to carry and everyone heard.

Hermione came up to him and placed a hand on his back. He shrugged her off and she huffed a bit. "Stop blaming yourself, Harry. It couldn't have been you. You need to be a blood relation."

He shook his head impatiently. "That's not what Ragnok said. It said it right there in the will that I was next in line after her. Something to do with the bond," he said tersely. The jumbled feelings of worry, fear, and guilt were making him irritable.

Her heard Hermione exhale a small, surprised, "Oh!" In his periphery, he saw her turn to the others in the room. "Is that even possible?" she asked the group at large.

"It's not common and is usually kept quiet, but magical adoptions have been done before," Mr. Weasley said slowly. He turned to his wife, "Remember that time your mother and Walburga started fighting at her cousin Alphard's funeral?"

Mrs. Weasley's actually smiled a bit, a stark change from the despairing expression she'd been wearing since Harry and Ginny had returned. She replied, "Of course. Mum loved Alphard. Walburga started slandering him during the eulogy, vilifying him for supporting 'mudbloods, squibs, and the like'. Mum lost it. She had shouted for the whole funeral party to hear that Walburga had no room to talk, as her great-grandfather was a muggleborn that was lucky to become a Bullstrode at all." Mrs. Weasley actually let out a short laugh. "Walburga turned so purple that I thought she might stop breathing entirely and drop dead."

Mr. Weasley, looking somewhat lighter at the change in his wife's demeanor, turned back to Harry and the group at large. "Right. According to Lucretia, it's a little known fact that Walburga's great-grandfather was a Bullstrode by name, but not by birth. At the time he was born, the Bullstrode line had produced two consecutive generations of squibs. The Head of the Bullstrode family, the last remaining wizard they had produced, was getting older and knew his line had all but died out magically, so he found a great nephew who was a wizard. Having been born from a squib line to two muggles, the boy didn't have the family magic, but he was a close enough blood relation that he was able to participate in a ritual similar to yours upon the death of the man. The boy had agreed because he was aware that the family was prominent in society and well-off. They had managed to pass it off with no one being the wiser for several generations."

Mrs. Weasley added, "Grandma Prewitt's public announcement at Uncle Alphard's funeral is what lost the Bullstrode's their Sacred Twenty-Eight status. Once it was known that their line was descended from a muggleborn..." With an impatient shake of her head, she continued, "Good riddance if you ask me. The whole pureblood obsession is madness. John and Agatha Bullstrode are a wonderful couple, but he never would have been able to marry a muggleborn like her if they had stuck to the old ways."

"You're right, dear," Arthur said indulgently. He quickly directed the conversation back to their true topic. "The point is that it can and has been done before, so it's not terribly surprising that you could have been eligible. You are distantly related. While you probably aren't a close enough relation by blood alone, the magic of the betrothal would give you enough connections to do it."

Harry's foot bounced nervously and he tightened his grip on Ginny's hand. "It should have been me," he repeated more forcefully this time. "I shouldn't have let her do it."

It was Mrs. Weasley who stopped him from brooding. She came up to him, forcing him to look at her with a gentle palm on his cheek that he couldn't bring himself to ignore. Her brown eyes - so like Ginny's that it hurt to look at them when he couldn't look at the real thing - were soft and forgiving as he met them. She smiled sadly at him.

"You did the right thing, Harry. Even if she would have let you, I'm glad you didn't. Her status as a Black now will protect her from more than you could have." Her hand rose from his cheek to his hair, motherly attempting to brush it into order. For the first time, the comfort he felt at her ministrations wasn't marred by any of his usual unease. He let some of the guilt go as her acceptance settled over him. She continued somewhat apologetically, "Not that I don't care about your safety, dear, but it's a comfort to know that she'll be safe from a few of the worst families now. She'll find a way through this and be stronger for it, just you wait and see."

Harry wasn't the only one affected by her optimism. The expressions of the onlookers around the room shifted from apprehension to confident almost as one. None of them expected it to be easy, but they had seen Ginny go through worse before and come out better for it, and their expressions said they would help see her through once again. It furthered Harry's hope.

Mrs. Weasley didn't see it, however. She looked down at her daughter again and Harry followed her gaze. She reached down and brushed a hand through her hair in the same manner as she had just done to Harry.

Harry looked Ginny over for the millionth time in the seven hours that he had spent beside her. Then he looked around the room once more at everyone. He'd had to use the loo for over two hours now, but had been afraid to leave her alone. The idea was still repellent, but if he left now and she woke while he was gone, at least she'd be surrounded by her family. _There's nothing for it, _he sighed internally, _it's not like Kreacher can use the loo for you._

He did his best to make it quick, discomfort gnawing at him with every step he took away from her. His relief at finally emptying his bladder turned to dismay when she began screaming less than a minute after he left. Hastily finishing, he rushed back to her room.

Every person was still assembled, all oriented toward the bed and watching in horror. They formed a wall that prevented him from seeing the bed, but he could hear Mrs. Weasley's pleading voice as she frantically tried to soothe her daughter. It wouldn't help, he knew; she was fighting against forces they couldn't see or understand. Harry quickly pushed past them all. He just _knew_ he was the only that could reach her right now.

Bill and her father were holding her down while she thrashed and kicked out at them. Her eyes were firmly shut, tears streaming out of them and down her cheeks while her screaming continued until it broke off with a cough. Mrs. Weasley was brushing the tears away and trying to talk to her. Ginny's raspy voice was choking out "no" over and over again through her coughing.

Harry saw red at the sight of her struggling. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked at them without thought as he shoved at Bill.

It was a futile attempt. Bill maintained his grip on his sister's wrists. Bill's face was sad but steady as he looked at Harry, easing the younger boys anger. "We don't have a choice, Harry. She keeps trying to pull the ring off, but no matter what, we cannot allow that to happen. The ritual hasn't finished working yet - removing the ring could permanently damage her magic."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Ginny's coughing subsided and her voice became clear again.

"Let me go, Tom," she sobbed. "Just let me go," she pleaded brokenly. Then she shrieked, "_Stop it! Get it away from me!"_

Just like earlier today at Gringotts, he reacted on instinct. As quick as he could manage it without fucking up, he slipped Orion's ring from his finger and onto her pointer finger. Every muscle in his body tensed painfully when she let out another scream that sounded like she was being held under the cruciatus, but he forced himself to keep moving. He swiftly removed Walburga's ring from her and slipped it onto his pinky. It wouldn't go past the second joint, but it was secure enough that he didn't feel like he would lose it. He felt the magic flowing through him increase, confirming his suspicion that Walburga's ring was a stronger focus point. Her screaming cut off immediately and she stopped thrashing, but she continued to sob in her sleep.

Bill cautiously loosened his grip on her wrists and looked at Harry. His expression bore an odd mixture of gratitude and reproach. "That was a risky move, Harry."

Harry shrugged as he took one of Ginny's hands in his, gently rubbing the red skin of her wrist there. Risky it might have been, but she was better now than she had been moments before and that was all that mattered to him. "It worked, didn't it?"

With grudging respect, Bill nodded and Harry turned to Ginny once more. She was still clearly distraught, the tears streaming in unending rivulets down her cheeks, but her mother was no longer trying to soothe her. Mrs. Weasley was now standing in her husband's embrace, sobbing "my little girl" into Mr. Weasley's chest.

Harry took over immediately. She wasn't as bad as before, but she wasn't anywhere near okay. Her words were more mumbled and harder to understand now, but he was certain he heard her say Tom's name again accompanied by a flinch. Her hand spasmed in his. He had to find a way to wake her up.

He lifted her so that she was sitting up with her weight supported against him. Her body wasn't restrained in any way, but the position would allow him to quickly wrap his arms around her if she started fighting him and he had to subdue her. He attempted to wake her one last time by calling her name. When he got no response, he pinched the webbed skin between her thumb and pointer finger _hard_.

It was a trick he had learned growing up with the Dursleys when he realized that crying would get him nowhere but in trouble. It always helped him get the feeling under control. Even though she was asleep, he hoped the quick shock of pain - knowing how quickly it fled after the fact made him feel less guilty about inflicting any kind of pain on her - would pull her out of whatever was making her cry and wake her up, even if it didn't work to stop the tears.

To his relief, it worked. With a gasp, she yanked her hand out of his and attempted to pull away from him and sit up on her own. His arms tightened around her though and he quietly soothed her. "Shush, it's okay, Gin. It's just me. You're alright."

She turned in his embrace and looked up at him. Frantically, she said, "Harry! Tom - ".

"He's not here, Ginny," he reassured her. "It's just us and your family in Grimmauld Place. Look."

Her eyes widened as they scanned the room and took notice of her assembled family members. They came back to rest on him, the pupils blown wide with fear. Her lips trembled and her voice shook as she gripped him desperately. "They shouldn't be here, Harry. Tom's _here_. I can hear him. He'll kill them. _Please, Harry. _I can't - my magic is wrong. I don't - he's taking over again and thenhe'll make me hurt them, just like he wants me to hurt you." She suddenly was fighting against him, trying to get away, "and he will. He'll hurt you. _I'll hurt you_. The Basilisk, it almost killed you. _Go_."

Despite the surprising amount of strength she was putting into pushing him away, he held on. "Ginny. Ginny! Calm down," he said, trying to break through the hysteria. His attempts to stop her were gentle, fearing how she had reacted when her parents and Bill restrained her. She only struggled harder, begging him to leave her. Harry thought he could feel her magic building as her panic escalated and feared what kind of accidental magic she might unleash.

Finally he pinned both arms against his chest and held her firmly with one arm around her back. His free hand cupped her face and forced her to look at him. It felt wrong, forcing her like that, but she was in hysterics and likely to hurt herself. If this didn't work, they may have to put her into a magically induced sleep, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be trapped in her mind with the things that were haunting her.

"Gin," he said forcefully, squeezing her around the middle for emphasis. She stopped struggling and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm _fine_. You're _safe_. The diary Tom and the Basilisk are both _gone_. Remember? Remember Fawkes? He came and helped," he prodded, trying to orient her to the time and place. "It's not Tom's magic. It's the Black family magic. Sirius… he thought it would protect you." His words had started off strong, but faded into a soft sadness. He hated everything about this, but he didn't have the energy to be angry. Nor did she need to see that right now.

He realized he was still holding her far too tight, and loosened his grip, not wanting to cause her any more discomfort. Her reaction was not what he expected, as her breathing picked up and she gripped him desperately. He could feel her nails through the fabric of his shirt where she was holding on. Taking the hint, he returned to their previous position and was gratified when she relaxed fractionally.

Slowly she nodded. Her pupils were shrinking back to a more normal size as reality began to sink in. There was still a level of fear on her pale face that had him worried though. Her eyes shot sideways for a split second, to the general area her family had assembled, before coming back to him. They were wide and pleading as she whispered, "I feel like I can still hear him."

A shiver went through her as she said it. It reminded him of how cold this room always felt and how she had mentioned that Sirius's room made her feel better. Making a decision, he stood, pulling her with him.

He looked directly at her parents. His tone brokering no argument, he said firmly, "I'm taking her to Sirius's room." The _alone_ went unsaid, but he knew they understood. It was strange to speak to them in such a way - and had the circumstances been different he couldn't imagine doing so - but Ginny's needs took precedence over propriety or their feelings.

Instead of looking offended, they both signaled their agreement. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were red and tears streamed down her blanched face, but she nodded from where she stood tucked in her husband's arms. Mr. Weasley looked sadly at his daughter where she was tucked similarly in Harry's embrace before looking at Harry with understanding and gratitude. "Go," he said quietly.

Everyone stood motionless, shock and sadness hanging in the air as they watched Harry lift an unresisting Ginny and quickly leave the room. If Ginny's brother's or Hermione had anything to say on the matter, they didn't speak it in front of Harry. He would have ignored them even if they had. Ginny's grip around his neck - tight enough to make breathing slightly uncomfortable - encouraged him to move faster.

When they finally arrived, he set her down on the bed. Her arms remained locked around his neck, her face buried in his chest. The position didn't allow him to pull back, but he didn't fight it. For whatever reason, probably the bond and the magic that was finding its way to her through both rings, it seemed of the utmost importance that he not break the physical contact with her.

The room grew dark around them as the minutes passed in silence. Ginny didn't speak, nor did she relax her grip, and Harry followed her example. When true darkness settled, though, Ginny began to tremble. With one hand, he used his wand to light the lamps in the room.

Even though his spell had been spoken softly, she flinched and pulled back. Her arms wrapped around her legs and pulled her knees to her chest. Her side was still resting against his front, but if he pulled back, he'd be able to see her face. He grimaced at what he saw.

Her gaze was unseeing, staring at nothing apparent in the direction of the far wall. The bags under her eyes were deep and colored like a bruise, and the ghostly white color of her complexion made the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks look more like ink blots than the usual dusting of color. She looked more like she had had a run-in with a dementor than like she had slept for the last seven hours.

_She looks like she could use some tea… or better yet some hot chocolate._ The thought made him realize that he hadn't seen her eat or drink anything at all today.

"Ginny," he said softly. She flinched again, but turned her attention to him. The distant look there frightened him a little, but he continued. "Gin, I think you should have something to drink. Tea, maybe? Or hot chocolate?"

When she didn't immediately answer and just looked at him with an unsure expression, he continued, "I'm not going to leave you." Relief flashed across her face before giving way to panic at his next words, "I was just going to call Kreacher -".

"No!" She burst out, wide, sunken eyes staring at him in horror. "Please, don't call him. I don't want anyone else here. _Please_."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. Trapped as she had been in her nightmare reality, he hadn't blamed her for how she felt about her family being present. But _Kreacher?_ Her brown eyes were huge as she looked up at him trustingly, however, and he couldn't find it in him to deny her.

"You really need something to eat and drink, though," he insisted. "I don't mind getting it for you, but I don't want to leave you. Will you be alright here alone while I'm gone?" he asked in concern. It was a sure sign that she wasn't feeling herself that she didn't get upset with him for suggesting that she needing minding.

"I will. I promise. I just don't want anyone else here," she answered too quickly, still sounding terrified. Then in a small voice she added, "Maybe you could leave me your wand, though?"

Harry quickly handed it over. She was clearly terrified and if having a wand would make her feel better, he'd gladly part with his for a few minutes. He wouldn't need it here in Grimmauld Place anyway. She took it gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly, without looking up from the wand.

Reluctantly, he stood to go. His hand lingered on her for as long as possible, until he cautiously pulled away. To his relief, she didn't scream this time, though her muscles tensed and her face twisted. She gave him a little nod of encouragement, but didn't unlock her clenched teeth to speak.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," he said, already making his way out the door as fast as he could.


	14. Chapter 12B

**A/N: The chapter numbers are even more off now, but I'm planning on going back and adding titles. This was a chapter that was planned for a while, and as I consider it a continuation of the last one, I wanted to share it with you all. Thanks to the Discord and especially iKingBearII. Thanks for reading!**

Harry hurried down the flight of stairs. Ginny still hadn't made a sound, but he didn't want to test how long that would hold out. He almost ran right into Mrs. Weasley on the third floor landing.

It was a very near miss. Unable to stop his momentum, he twisted to the side and hit the wall. His shoulder hurt from the impact, but he was grateful to have successfully avoided hitting her. Judging by the steam rising from the two cups she carried, they both would have been nursing some scalding wounds had he not.

"Harry!" She exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing? Is Ginny okay?!" Her composure was rapidly deteriorating. She moved about nervously, as though looking for some place to put down the cups so that she could run up the stairs to her daughter.

"She's fine," he said quickly, concerned by the way the hot liquid was sloshing about. How she didn't feel it on her fingers was shocking to him. "I was actually just coming to get her some tea."

Her movements settled, though her eyes flicked to the stairs. Nervously, she said, "Oh… well, I just wanted to bring them up. Just to check, you know."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he replied. She looked like she was about to protest, so he elaborated, "She's… still confused by her nightmare. She didn't even want me to summon Kreacher, which is why I'm here. For now, it would probably only upset her to see you or anyone else."

She pursed her lips. He may have thought her irritated with him if it weren't for the sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He truly was. He could see how much this hurt her, hurt all of them really. Ginny was his number one concern, however. Gesturing to the cups she carried, he asked, "Do you mind? I don't really like leaving her alone right now."

She started. "Yes. Yes, of course." Gently she passed the cups over to him. Looking back up the steps she asked, "Are you sure…"

"I'll take good care of her, Mrs. Weasley. I swear it."

The smile she gave him was wobbly at best, but she nodded. "I know you will, dear." Her hand brushed his arm as he moved past her. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he'd been gone too long as it was.

"Thank you," he said over his shoulder, trying to soften his abrupt departure.

When he arrived at the door, he realized he had a problem. The door was firmly shut and he didn't have a free hand. He could put one of the cups down, but the floor was disgusting, so he cautiously kicked lightly on the door and called, "Gin? It's me." _If she doesn't answer, I'll just put it down and not drink it._

It was an unnecessary thought. The door swung open and both cups were unceremoniously thrown from his hands as he was assaulted by a red blur that smelled strongly of flowers.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, wrapping her eyes around him and squeezing quickly. She kept her arms firmly around his neck as she pulled back, revealing a huge smile on her face and bright eyes. "You're back!" She threw back her head and let out a delighted laugh. "I'm so glad you're here! I missed you!"

Harry gawked at her, wondering what the hell was going on. This was not the Ginny he had left minutes ago. Part of him was sure he'd stepped into an alternate universe, though he had no idea how. Perhaps he had actually fallen down the stairs and was hallucinating. His hands stung where the tea had spilled, though, and the broken china cracked beneath his feet as he stumbled a bit trying to balance with Ginny attached to him, assuring him that it was at least reality.

Trepidatiously, he asked, "Gin, are you alright?"

She pulled away fully then, laughter still on her face. "I'm _fantastic_ now that you're here," she said enthusiastically. Her hands slid down his arms and took his hands. He flinched at the contact with the burns.

"What happened?" She asked overly confused. "Come here, I need better lighting," she said quickly, dragging him into Sirius's room. Her mouth formed an exaggerated "o" as she took in the mess on the floor of the open doorway. "I'm so sorry, Harry! I know a spell that will fix it! Mum was always using it on Charlie before he went to Romania. He used to have this orphaned baby fire crab and he was always getting burned. Not that he would admit what had done it, of course, but I really think Mum must have known…" She spoke quickly, trailing off with a smile on her face. A gasp escaped her as she realized she was still holding Harry's injured hand. "Oh! That's not important. Sorry! Anyway, I think you should cast the spell. Here, take it," she said, shoving his wand back into his right hand.

Harry just continued to gape at her. _What the literal fuck is going on?_ It was his only coherent thought.

"Harry!" She admonished in good-natured exasperation. "Come on. Focus now."

Mechanically, he did what she said. Wrapping his hand around his wand and allowing her to demonstrate the wand movement. It was simple enough, just a circle around the area and a jab. He repeated the incantation after her, the pain receding from his left hand. She had him switch and do the right as well.

It probably would have been wise of him to pay attention and actually learn the spell, but his true attention had been focused on Ginny. Her behavior and demeanor was completely incomprehensible. He couldn't see any signs that she was faking her sudden cheer, but he also didn't understand her complete emotional turn about either.

When she looked up from inspecting his hands, she smiled brilliantly at him. "Fantastic! I was worried you wouldn't be able to do it. I'm not sure I could've done it with your wand. Between you and me," she said, leaning in as if to share a secret, "I don't think your wand quite agrees with me." The inappropriate thought, _I very much doubt that, _floated through his mind before he could stop it. He quickly beat back that line of thinking and focused on her words. "I'm feeling all funny and it's never been like this before. Though I've never cast a cheering charm with someone else's wand before either, so I guess - ".

Harry didn't let her finish, all previous thoughts having fled. "Cheering charm? What do you mean you cast a cheering charm? That's a fifth year spell, Gin. How do you know you did it right? You could have hurt yourself. I should get your mum or maybe Kreacher can…" he trailed off as he realized she was laughing at him.

"Hurt myself!" She said through giggle. "That's funny, really. I've known how to cast a cheering charm since I was _eleven_. Well, I couldn't cast one _well,_ but I've known how. Madam Pomfrey didn't think I'd have the magical reserves to put enough power into it to cause any real damage, so she taught me after the Chamber. I could cast it well enough to keep from crying in the hallways between classes at least," she said flippantly. "And there was none of that nasty leveling out, you know how there's a recovery period of feeling depressed that's equal to the amount of time you spent under the charm feeling cheerful? Mine weren't strong enough for that. Of course, I haven't done it in several years either, so maybe it wasn't the wand at all… but I'm feeling better now, regardless. Especially now that you're back," she finished, wrapping her arms around him in another embrace.

Harry tried to piece it all together as he distractedly returned the embrace. She'd cast a cheering charm on herself, one that had clearly gone terribly wrong somehow. He couldn't imagine the fallout she was going to experience tomorrow, given how overpowered the charm seemed to be. He didn't think it was the wand or her age that was to blame however. He could still feel the influx of magic making him feel jittery and knew it must be having an even larger influence on her.

Now that he thought about it, it was probably influencing his own magic as well. He'd never before cast a healing charm, yet even with only a portion of his attention he was able to cast the one Ginny had shown him correctly on the first try. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume the magic had caused her to cast it with far too much efficiency, and likely too much power behind it as well.

Before he could think of what to do, she had pulled back and was beaming at him again. "Which is great! Because there's something I want to show you! Come on!" She had threaded her fingers with his and was pulling on his hand, bouncing a bit as she tried to pull him toward the bed.

He resisted her efforts and pulled back slightly. In her exuberance, she lost her balance and fell into his chest. He caught her, but the way she laughed at the clumsiness of the action made him more worried than before. She was acting like a drunk, a very happy drunk, but like someone under the influence none-the-less.

He put a hand to her cheek and lifted her face. She was still squinting through her amusement, obscuring her eyes a bit. "Ginny," he said seriously, "I need you to look at me, okay?"

His tone made her still and her eyes widened. Unblinkly she stared into his, but whispered, "What are you looking for?"

"I'm checking your pupils, making sure they're not dilated. That's a sign something is wrong." He really didn't know too much about this sort of thing, but he did know that much.

She rolled her eyes then and stuck out her tongue. With a gentle shove, she said in exasperation, "I'm _fine, _Harry. Don't be such a worrier, you loon."

Harry gave her a stern look, completely unamused by her blasé attitude. That was easy for her to say when she was out of her mind and giddy. It wasn't so easy for him, who had spent the entire day worried sick over her and was desperately afraid of any harm coming to her.

"You look exhausted, Ginny. You're bouncing around, talking a mile a minute, but the bags under your eyes are so dark they could be bruises. What do you expect me to think?" He asked brusquely.

"Oh!" She exclaimed brightly, pulling a vial of potion from her pocket and swallowing it before he could blink, let alone react. He watched in shock as her features brightened until her skin became it's normal tone. Smiling she asked, "Better, right? Thank you for reminding me! I should've taken that hours ago, no wonder you were worried."

Harry finally snapped out of his daze, grabbing the empty vial and sniffing it. It wasn't a scent he recognized. Harshly, he asked, "What did you just take?"

She laughed again. The sound, usually so pleasant, grated at him. _It's not funny. Something could be wrong. Potions are dangerous. And she indicated she's been taking it a lot._

"_Ginny_," he said warningly.

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's just a very subtle glamour potion, Harry. It's perfectly safe. Fred and George made it for me _years_ ago, and I've used it _loads _of times. I knicked the recipe and have been brewing it myself for _ages_. It's just so that no one worries when I'm... you know… tired. Nightmares and all that."

"Gin…" he said, at a loss. How often did she take it? How often did she have nightmares so bad that she felt the need to cover up the evidence with potions that she carried around with her? _And her magic isn't the same right now. What if she has a bad reaction?_

She huffed. "You really don't believe me? I'm fine!"

No, he really didn't believe her. People who were fine did not go around casting cheering charms on themselves. Despite having studied them this year, he really didn't know enough to understand whether or not she would be alright, especially with the potion. Indecision warred within him. He'd really prefer to have her mum look her over, but that seemed to be crossing a line that he couldn't come back from. He hated when people interfered with him that way and knew Ginny felt the same. But he couldn't do _nothing_. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"Kreacher!" He called. _If he says she's going to be fine, I'll leave it alone, and if not, then I'll call Mrs. Weasley. _

The elf appeared loudly, just as he always did. Harry noticed the bow he gave Ginny was much deeper than the one he had given Harry earlier. Even the way the elf looked at her was different. There was gratitude in his eyes.

"Mistress Ginevra," he said respectfully. "Master," he added to Harry, though it was with far less feeling. Ginny's eyes lit up at the greeting though and they flashed to Harry before turning back toward the elf.

"Hello Kreacher," she said warmly. "I'm so glad to hear you're listening to Harry too. He's very important to me, you see, and I really appreciate you showing him the respect he deserves," she praised, smiling at him.

Kreacher shot Harry a rather unpleasant look, but looked at Ginny with something disturbingly close to adoration. "Kreacher does what Mistress asks. She is nice to him and he wants to help." The elf's eyes sharpened as he looked at her more closely. "Mistress is not quite right now. She is under a cheering charm. Does she need Kreacher's assistance getting rid of it?" He asked eagerly.

"No, Kreacher. But thank you. I'm quite content right now, but I was hoping you would assure Harry that the cheering charm won't hurt me and that I'll be fine."

Kreacher looked at Harry and repeated the words she told him verbatim.

Harry scowled. "Tell me the truth," he ordered. Ginny huffed beside him, but he ignored her. She could be as irritated with him as she wanted for it. He needed to know for sure.

"Mistress will be fine," the elf reiterated, though he looked her over again. "But she needs food and drink." The elf disappeared with a crack before Harry could reply.

"See! I told you," Ginny said smugly. "Now, _come on_," she said, tugging him again.

He followed her this time. She seemed determined and energized enough that he wouldn't be able to talk her out of it, not when he was so exhausted himself. It had been a very long day, and sitting down with her on Sirius's bed, an area that had quickly begun to feel like their safe space, was a relief.

She wiggled and squirmed into position, seemingly struggling to get comfortable. Her side lined up with his, her shoulder and arm rubbing against his in a manner that was strongly reminiscent of a Crookshanks trying to work his way into Hermione's lap. The resemblance only increased when she bumped and adjusted him until his arm was slung round her and she was firmly tucked against his side, nuzzling his chest with her head beneath his chin. She sighed happily.

The moment was broken by a loud crack as Kreacher returned. Ginny's head collided with his chin painfully as she jumped in surprise and Harry instinctively pulled away from the source of the pain. Without him holding her, she slipped off the bed and landed with a thump on the floor.

Ginny was laughing at herself quite loudly. Her shoulders shook and she had her head tossed back. Harry wasn't nearly as amused, hastily reaching down to help her up. Kreacher was even less pleased than Harry.

He had levitated the tray of food he brought and was glaring at Harry with his hands on his hips. "Yous is a _bad_ Master. You is not taking care of Mistress," he croaked reproachfully. "Kreacher _told_ Master to be more careful with Mistress, but he does not listen," he said under his breath, pulling on his wrinkled ears.

Ginny shook Harry's helping hands off and leaned forward onto her knees. Gently, she stopped Kreacher. "None of that now," she admonished softly. "We're just fine here. Harry has been taking good care of me, I promise. That was my fault," she said clearly. She turned to Harry then, smiling, "I'm quite sorry, Harry. Forgive me?" She asked with an exaggerated pout.

Harry let out an exasperated breath, the pain in his jaw exacerbating his annoyance that the little elf kept giving him shit and that Ginny seemed to baby him. "Yes," he said shortly.

Ginny didn't take any offense at his tone. She smiled brilliantly, winked, and turned to Kreacher. "See! We're just perfect! And you brought snacks. Thank you, Kreacher. I really am hungry. It's very much appreciated."

The elf bowed lowly once more. "Kreacher is happy to be of service, Mistress. Would you like Kreacher to stay?" He shot Harry a suspicious look as he said it.

_Who the hell does he think he is? _Indignation swelled. _I've_ _done more to protect Ginny than he ever will_. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. _He's just a stupid elf and will be gone soon,_ he reminded himself. Harry vaguely heard Ginny laugh and dismiss Kreacher while he tried to bite his tongue.

He relaxed his pose when he heard the crack of Kreacher disappearing. He hadn't dropped his hand yet before it was yanked by Ginny.

"Merlin!" She gasped, staring at his hand. She giggled and asked laughingly, "Why in Godric's name are you wearing this? It looks ridiculous!"

Harry followed her gaze to where the small ring was stuck above the second joint of his pinky. He had forgotten that she wouldn't have been aware that he'd made the switch, and it did look quite silly. Still, the greater part of his attention was caught on the fact that she could look at the ring and laugh, when earlier today the sight of it had made her look sick.

"You were having a hard time, so I switched them," he explained flatly. "It helped."

Her laughter softened then and the look she gave him was so full of warmth and tenderness that he had the urge to blush. It was surprising. He'd done a lot of things today that normally would have embarrassed him to the point of turning tomato red, but he hadn't felt anything of the sort then. The way she was looking at him right now though…

"Thank you," she said fervently before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. He thought there may be a permanent mark left by her lips from the way his skin burned at the contact. She pulled back too quickly and winked at him, "See, you do take care of me. Silly Kreacher doesn't know what he's talking about!" A little chuckle found its way through Harry's lips. She was completely ridiculous, but her happiness, the feeling of her lips still burning his cheek, and her poking fun at Kreacher had him feeling better. She looked even happier at the sound. "Speaking of silly, let's get that off of you."

His smile dropped and he pulled his hand away. "That's a bad idea, Gin. You can't be without one and it really hurt you the last time you wore both. I don't want to do that again," he let out a little shiver at the memory. "I'm happy to look ridiculous if we don't have to do that again," he added dryly.

She gave him a funny, calculating look. Her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed as she took his hand again and stared at it in concentration. Since she wasn't trying to remove the ring from his finger, he allowed her to adjust his hand, turning it this way and that until she finally found a position that made her happy. Her face lit up and she exclaimed, "Ah-ha!"

Harry's left hand was palm up, his fingertips touching the tips of Ginny's fingers where her left hand was making a straight line with his. Face down as hers was positioned, she had managed to line up their fingers up so that her fourth was touching his pinky where Walburga's ring was, while her index baring Orion's ring touched his fourth finger. Her right hand closed around Orion's ring as she said, "You'll have to help."

He nodded and positioned his right hand over Walburga's ring. He understood what she intended now; if they worked in tandem, then they could return the rings to their original positions on the other without her losing contact or having to wear both. It was a surprisingly smart idea for someone in her state. "One. Two. Three," he counted and they moved simultaneously. Then it was done, and the unconscious fear he had that something would go wrong was gone.

Ginny pulled back and shook out all her limbs. "Wow, that's weird. It's even _more _tingly," she said. Harry understood, as the strange feeling of the strong magic he had been experiencing was lessened again now that they had switched.

Harry didn't have time to dwell on it, because Ginny was looking at him intensely again. Earnestly, she said, "I really mean it, Harry. I don't remember making it here and I can only assume it was thanks to you, but I do remember earlier at Gringotts and how much you've been helping me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." The gratitude in her voice was a heavy thing as it settled over him.

He had to force himself past the emotion that was rising to reply, "Of course." She'd been helping him too, after all.

He couldn't continue though, because her hand was on his chest, a look of reverence in her eyes, and she was too close. Truthfully, he wanted to pull her even closer and do many things that he knew he shouldn't, but he also knew she wasn't acting herself right now. He couldn't risk letting his hormones take over when he couldn't trust her actions were truly her own.

He took her hand, removing it from his chest and placing it between them. "Didn't you say you were hungry?" He asked, gesturing to the food Kreacher had brought.

"Oh! Yes! But I want you to look at what I found first!" She said, picking up the journal that had belonged to Sirius and flipping through the pages.

"What is it?" He asked cautiously, uncertain that he truly wanted to know what the book could tell him.

"_Well_," she said with great flourish, "I was reading Sirius's journal again and came across something I think you should see, because you've been so sad. And I don't like seeing you that way. And neither would Sirius. Soooo… I thought maybe reminding you of the good memories would cheer you up!" Then she thrust the book toward him and pointed to where she wanted him to read.

_August 12, 1995_

_Harry has been cleared of all charges! Now, I've said quite a nasty bit about Dumbledore lately, but the man did come through for my boy, so I'm willing to let it go._

_He's an amazing kid. A bit broody, maybe, but what teenager isn't? It's not like he doesn't have more reason that most, either. Besides, he's much better than James and I ever were. He's got Lily's temper though, that's for sure._

_I'll admit here (and only here) that the most selfish part of me wished he could have stayed here with me, but not so much that I'm not still happy for him. The look of relief on his face said it all in regard to how desperately he wanted to return to Hogwarts with his friends. I can't say I blame him - they really are a good group. James would be pleased. Even when he's a thick-headed git, they stick by him, and there's not much more a guy could ask for._

_Last night, a moment came that I hadn't anticipated, though I should have. I taught Harry to shave and tie a proper tie (not just loosening the half-arsed job on his school tie and retightening it). I had always imagined James would do the boring, stand-up life lessons, and I would be there to talk to about girls and illegal animagus transformations, and it was surreal to be in the position where James should have stood. I would have sworn I could feel James in the room as it happened._

_I even told him about the toy "bwoom" I sent for his first birthday. He laughed as I told him how Lily sent a letter that berated me for it, while James sent me a separate letter applauding it. Harry soaked the whole thing up. I haven't laughed like that in as long as I can remember. I wish I could have found that picture to show him._

_And for the first time in a long time… I felt hope, surreal as it was. James is gone. Lily is gone. But Harry is still here and he has a life to live. If I never leave this house again, if I never do anything else of significance ever again, it will be alright as long as I keep helping Harry live that life. I'll make sure their sacrifice was not in vain. _

_I think until last night, I had lost sight of that. Being cooped up here, in the prison of both my childhood and present, it's easy to get sucked into the despair and forget why I'm still here and why I escaped prison after twelve years. I wanted Harry to survive, but more than that, I wanted him to have a chance to truly live. James and Lily did that - they made the most of the time they had, even though it wasn't as much as they deserved._

_I've cut down on spending time looking for a way to keep him safe in order to spend as much time as possible with him, but I'm going to keep looking whenever I can. He deserves to live a free life. He deserves everything this world can give him. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure he has the opportunity to get it. _

_And I'm going to do my best to truly live too. Last night, I finally let go of some of the weight I've been carrying around. I know there's a long way to go. I know I'll probably forget again and fall back into that hole, but I'm going to try. _

_Speaking of the kids, it's time for me to head downstairs. _

The page ended there, and Harry flipped it, only to find it was an entry for another day. He didn't get a chance to read it before Ginny placed her hand over his. He looked up and met her shining eyes.

"See? He was so proud of you and loved you very much. You brought him actual _joy_, even in this place. I just thought you may have needed reminding. I know how hard it can be, and so did he," she finished, gesturing to the book and squeezing his hand.

He couldn't speak through the lump in his throat, a vortex of emotions swirling inside him at what he had read of his godfather's thoughts, and settled for nodding.

Her kind smile morphed into one of excitement. "I've been dying to know - did he ever find that picture? The one of you on the 'bwoom'," she joked with a laugh, though it wasn't at all cruel. On the contrary, it was pleasant and delighted at the possibility. "I can't believe I fell asleep last night, by the way. I must have missed so many good pictures! Was it in the album?" She asked eagerly, as if the thought of baby Harry on a broom was something magnificent.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. He shook his head. Even he heard the disappointment in his voice as he replied, "No. I don't think he ever found it. I looked through the whole section, but it wasn't there."

"Oh," she said. Dismayed, her face fell for only a moment before it perked back up in excitement. Gripping his arm with both her hands and bouncing a bit, she said, "But there were so many good ones, and I know there must have been more. Can we look at it again? _Pretty please?_"

Her eyes were bright and wide with earnestness, the brown resembling swirling melted chocolate, The fervor in them brought on a sweet feeling that was akin to the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded almost absently, caught under the spell of it.

"Eek!" She squealed, breaking out of his trance. _Damn, that was loud_, he winced, rubbing his ear. He hadn't thought Ginny was one of those girls who could burst an eardrum in their excitement, but apparently she was at the moment. He shook off the oddness at seeing her like that, reminding himself that she couldn't be held responsible for her actions in this state.

As he watched her practically float back to the bed with his book already open, he forgot about it. She was just too endearing to watch. Her face was once more lit by a brilliant smile as she looked intensely at the photos on the page, completely absorbed by what she saw. She didn't immediately sit down when she reached the bed, just stopped in front of him with an almost loving look on her face as she stroked one of the photos.

When she finally tore her eyes away from the page, it was to look at him. There was a sheen of tears had built up, though her expression was a happy one. "You have got to be the cutest child I have _ever_ seen, Harry. I mean, just _look_ at this!" She said, plopping down next to him and lying the open book across both their laps.

There were two pictures side-by-side of him as a baby. In the first, he was just barely managing to toddle across the carpeted floor, his tiny hands twined tightly in Padfoot's fur, who loyally trodded beside him and helped correct his balance. In the second, he fell onto his bum and looked about to cry until Padfoot came and licked his face, and the baby version of him broke out into giggles.

"Just look at you two," she said. Her head had come to rest on his shoulder as they watched the scenes repeat, so he couldn't see her smile, but he could hear it. "You can just see the love and how happy you both are."

She was right. He could see it. The feeling it evoked was bittersweet, however. He felt warmed by the sight, but also great sorrow that they had had so little time like that. Doing his best to push the sadness aside, he turned the page and said, "There are more like that. Let me show you."

"Please do," she replied happily.

For a while, they passed the time like that, with him showing her the various images she had missed and then reading the descriptions together. Never once did her delight at seeing him in his youth diminish, and her enthusiasm began to spread to him against his will.

He couldn't help it; the sound of her unencumbered laughter and the way her smile truly reached her eyes was infectious. Harry had to admit to himself that in his darkest moments that day, he had worried he may never get to see them again. Yet here she was, happier than he'd seen her in years. The best part of him fought against it though, feeling guilty for finding any enjoyment in something that was truly terrible, because he knew it wasn't real. He still found himself laughing and smiling with her anyway.

Just before the last page, he shut the book, having remembered the picture of him in the tub, his baby genitals on full display, and also the section that came after. He didn't get a chance to explain before Ginny gave an indignant cry.

"Hey! What did you do that for?" She complained, "It wasn't over! And I was having so much fun," she added, reaching for the book.

He pulled it further from her reach. "There's only one more page and," he felt the blush rise, but continued anyway, "I'm taking a bath in the last one. You don't need to see that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "_Harry_," she said with great emphasis. "You were a _baby. _Everyone knows baby nudity doesn't count!"

"Really? So if I were to go ask your mum for pictures of naked baby-Ginny, you'd have absolutely no problem with that?" He challenged, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Of course not!" She said cheerfully. "And fair is fair, after all. I'll show you mine first if you'll show me yours," she finished with a wink.

Harry gaped for a moment. He couldn't help but wonder briefly if she kept saying things like that on purpose. He quickly corrected his expression, casting the thought aside. _There's no way._

While he was distracted, she must have checked the time, because she was pouting at the clock on the desk. "Oh man," she exhaled in disappointment, "why did it have to get so late? She'll never help right now. I'd probably just be sent to bed. Boo."

"Yeah, best not bother her," Harry replied, relief and her contagious cheer making it sound far too happy.

She narrowed her eyes at his tone, before smiling again. "Oh well, I'm sure there are loads of other things we can look at it in there!"

"Oh, er…" Harry hesitated. He hadn't explored much of the book, having been too afraid of the stories it would tell and being distracted by thoughts of his new feelings for Ginny after that. "Yeah, I guess," he acquiesced, not wanting to talk about all that.

Being careful not to open to the section containing sex advice - _that_ would be truly humiliating - he opened to a random section and was surprised to find it was all about general betrothal protocols used by the old families. Ginny let out a small gasp and they shared a look of surprise, before both reading quickly.

Most of it was self explanatory or otherwise to be expected, but it did explain why Harry had been given the Black rings instead of Ginny. Apparently, the rings come from the family of greater status, no matter the gender, as the wealthier family would not lower its standards, and are given to the male party to give to his betrothed when it's announced. Harry had just reached the next section, detailing what it meant to be Head of an ancient and noble family when Ginny spoke.

"I guess we should have read this sooner," she said. There was no recrimination in her tone, but it was far too chipper from the cheering charm for Harry to count on her judgement of the situation.

He sighed, feeling guilty. "You're right. It would have been good to know ahead of time."

She bumped his shoulder and attempted to give him a stern look, but her eyes were lit up and she was having a hard time keeping the smile off her face. In other circumstances that look would have made him feel lighter, but knowing it was artificial dimmed the effect.

"What have I told you about blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault to begin with?" She scolded with an exaggerated wag of her finger.

The gesture was ridiculous and Harry managed to laugh at it. He suddenly did feel better, because even though her exuberance was still fake, she had said those words to him when she was half-asleep that first night, and it seemed that those sleepy words always came from an honest place. _Right after she said she loved me. _The memory made his laughter dry up.

He still didn't know exactly what she meant by that. It was doubtful that she meant it in a romantic way. She had thrown it out so cavalierly. But she had also stated it plainly, as if it were an obvious fact he should already know, and he knew she meant the words. It made him feel a sort of nervous excitement that he was unaccustomed to.

He knew now wasn't the time to talk about it - in her present state she more resembled a drunk and it felt like taking advantage of her to do so - but the words slipped out. "You said that you loved me, but you were too tired to make me feel better about it."

Her cheeks didn't flush with embarrassment, further proving that she wasn't in her right mind. Instead her eyes danced and she nodded. "That's exactly right. I'm glad you remembered," she emphasized it with a pat on the chest. "We now know and that's good enough." She squinted, "Why haven't you read it? Not that I'm judging of course. I stared at my things for what felt like hours before I did anything at all with them. It was strange, you know? Like I desperately wanted to know what he had given me but was also terrified, because once I did it, there would be no turning back. He really would be gone, then."

Her rambling came to an end with a large intake of breath. The words had been so rushed that he wasn't sure she had stopped to breath at all during the entire speech. Despite knowing it was the magical influence, Harry couldn't help finding amusement in it and he laughed. _She really can talk, can't she?_

When he stopped, he realized she was looking at him expectantly, still waiting for a reply to her original question. The amusement died. He didn't really want to talk about this. _She probably can't stop herself from sharing whatever she's thinking right now. It's not fair that you get to keep your secrets when she doesn't, _his inner voice chided.

"I was afraid of that at first," he admitted. He forced himself to continue, "but I was more afraid of the stories he had to tell me. Remember at Easter time when I wanted to talk to him?" She nodded intently, clearly soaking in every word he said. "Well, I had seen a memory of Snape's. My dad," he had to swallow past the lump in his throat to continue, "my dad and Snape went to school together, see, and in the memory, my dad was a real jerk. He started bullying Snape. He was _cruel_, and it was all because Sirius had said he was _bored_. It's just… since I joined the wizarding world, people have told me about how much like him I am, like it was something to be proud of… but what kind of person does that?" The question came out desperately.

She looked at him compassionately. "So that's why you wanted to talk to him?" At his nod, she gently asked, "What did Sirius say when you asked him?"

Harry let out a sigh. "He said he was fifteen, as if that was some kind of excuse. I'm fifteen, but I'd never think it was okay to act like Malfoy."

"No, you wouldn't," she said quietly. Her brow furrowed for a moment and she actually went quiet. He wished her chatter would pick back up, because then he wouldn't have to think about it.

The silence insisted on being filled, and he found more words pouring out. "Sirius didn't seem to think it was a big deal at all, and he'd been laughing in the memory. I've clung to this idea that my parents were these great people… and I'm not sure I could take it if they weren't."

Her face was pinched in what would have been a comical expression if the context of their discussion hadn't been weighing on him so heavily. It was still somehow endearing. Until she giggled.

Harry couldn't contain his scowl. It wasn't remotely funny to him. _She's been through a lot today,_ reminded himself. He jaw clenched as he tried to fight the indignation that was swiftly rising. _She's not in her right mind._

Ginny caught his expression and covered her hand with her mouth, though some giggles still slipped through. "Oh! I'm sorry, Harry! I don't mean to laugh, but it's just so silly." She giggled again and Harry wanted to pull away from her, but no matter how angry he was, he didn't want to hurther. Instead he turned his head away and glared at the floor.

Calming down, she took his face in her hands forcing him to look at her. Even with the elevated cheer he knew she felt, she still managed to look serious in the moment. That more than anything was enough to wash away the anger. Her gaze was steady and her voice earnest as she explained.

"That was one moment, Harry. It was just one moment in a lifetime of moments. That one moment doesn't define him."

"But Sirius-".

"Sirius, and your father, were both children." He made to interrupt, but she plowed on. "They were foolish and immature, the way children are _supposed_ to be." A little sadness managed to creep into her expression, and it made Harry's chest hurt.She shouldn't have been able to look that way with the charm in place. "They weren't like us, Harry. They didn't have to grow up before their time."

Harry fell quiet, closing his eyes as he considered what she had said. It still didn't sit right, though. He couldn't forget that it had all been instigated because Sirius had said he was _bored._ When he reopened his eyes to ask, she was still staring at him.

"Think about your fourth year, when Ron didn't believe you about entering your name or when he rowed with Hermione after the Yule Ball. Anyone seeing only those moments would never understand how the three of you could possibly be friends. But you're the closest group of friends I've ever met, because of all the other moments you've shared. Don't let a single moment taken out of context prevent you from learning more about your dad," she encouraged, having understood that he was still struggling. "Haven't you ever done or said something rash that you regret?"

_Yes_. While that was true, the actions he regretted weren't comparable. Ginny seemed to understand again. _Would it ever stop amazing him that she could do that? _She didn't seem as mystified by their connection though, dropping her hands and gaze to her lap.

Quietly, she said, "No. I suppose you wouldn't have. I have though."

"What are you talking about?" He asked quickly, struck by her demeanor as much as the admission. He couldn't imagine her just attacking someone without provocation.

"I hexed Malfoy once." Harry scoffed, relaxing again. Malfoy was a wanker who more than likely deserved it. She looked at him sharply. "I'm serious. It was out on the grounds around the Black Lake my second year. I was sitting with Padfoot, actually, hidden in our little copse of trees when Malfoy strolled by with Pansy. He hadn't even seen me, but just looking at him holding hands with her, enjoying his life when his father had ruined mine… it made me so angry that I hit him with the Bat-Bogey Hex while his back was turned."

"You had every right to be angry with him, Gin. He may not have known about the Chamber, but he's done and said some terrible things to you and your family," he soothed.

"I know that," she said, finally looking back up at him. "But anyone watching that memory from his point of view wouldn't see that. All they'd see was me attacking him without cause. That's what I mean though… you shouldn't make assumptions without context. Given what a git he is now as a teacher, I doubt he was much better as a student. I'm not saying he _deserved _it exactly, but who knows what their history was like."

It took a minute for the words to really sink in and relief to start spreading. Her points actually made sense. Snape and his father probably did have a history, and it wasn't like Snape had shown himself to be pleasant or kind in the memory at all.

"He called my mum a mudblood," he admitted. Her wide eyes turned toward him and her jaw dropped. He grimaced and nodded. "Yeah. She was defending him, yelling at my dad, and he got angry with her."

"Wow," she said, still looking to be in shock. "That's just… huh. Your mum yelled at your dad?"

"Yeah," he admitted. That was another thing that had never sat well. It seemed like Lily Evans had _hated_ James Potter. Seeing the relationship they had in that memory made it seem impossible that they had ever become the loving couple that the photographs in his album depicted. "Her expression when she looked at him… I don't even know how they could have fallen in love and gotten married a few short years after that."

"Everyone grows up, Harry," she said, taking his hand. She squeezed it, then added, "and people can change. Just look at us!"

He gave a single chuckle, because it was true that they and their relationship had certainly changed. Their situation had involved a lot of extenuating circumstances, however, and he couldn't apply the logic to his parents and come out feeling better.

She leaned strongly into him then, giving him a full body hug. Unprepared for it, he lost his balance, sending them backward onto the bed. She didn't seem to notice or care about their change in position. Her breath was warm in his ear but sent shivers down his spine as she gently reminded him, "Single moments, Harry."

Her grip was tight around his neck, but her movements had been sloppy enough that she was practically splayed across him now. Harry's bodily reaction was entirely inappropriate given the situation that had preceded it. He pulled back a bit, trying to keep her from feeling what she was doing to him and also to put an end to the contact so that it could fade.

"Please don't," she said. "I want to stay like this. You make me feel better, Harry."

Harry froze, the begging in her request not lost on him. Still, it was inappropriate to be in such a position. While they'd slept in the same bed and had contact like this before, her family was actually aware that they were up there this time. They'd been left in peace for now, but it was too much to hope that no one would check in at all during the night. Cautiously, he said, "Gin, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

She pulled back a bit to look at him. The pout on her face and the way it emphasized the shape of her soft-looking lips was entirely too enticing to help the situation is his trousers. He was decidedly grateful when she dropped it in favor of rambling. "You like me, don't you? We're friends. I mean, I thought we were friends now. But I could be wrong. We weren't friends for a long time-"

"We would've been friends sooner if you would have stayed in the same room as me long enough for me to get to know you." It was an entirely unnecessary interjection, and came out somewhat bitter. Over the course of the last two days he had begun to lament the lost time he could have had with her had things been different, and it had just slipped out as a result.

"I know," she said glumly. Her demeanor straightened then and she continued more firmly, "But I'm not her anymore, you know that right? I haven't been in a long time. 'Little Ginny Weasley' is _dead_. Tom killed her." He flinched. It wasn't only her words, but the way she said it. He made to interrupt again, but she carried on swiftly. "Actually, he just started it. There was a little bit of her left. I killed her."

It was far too jarring a statement for Harry to form a coherent response. He said somewhat blankly, "What?"

"Well, she held on," she said slowly, her brow furrowed again, a crease forming between them. "Remember when Ron said you should take me to the Yule ball?" She continued without waiting for a response, "I swear my heart skipped a beat when he said that. At first, I was disappointed, see, because I was going with Neville already. But _then _I was disappointed in myself for being disappointed at all, and I finally realized it meant _she_ was still there." Her expression twisted with bitterness as she continued, "and I _hated_ her, because she was supposed to be _gone_."

"Gin," Harry said slowly, buying time. While he hadn't quite understood everything, he thought he got the point… but there was something more pressing he wanted to address. "You're not two different people. It's like you said before, everyone grows into someone different."

She let out a long-suffering sigh. While the cheer from her charm had clearly fled, her behavior was still obviously suffering as a result. "I know, but I was just so disappointed with that pathetic part of myself. And she had to go. So I talked to Hermione and she said I should see other people and just be myself around you," she explained, rambling a bit more slowly than she had earlier. An echo of her earlier enthusiasm returned as she continued, "And Hermione was right! Because if I kept avoiding you, I was just feeding into _her_ and how she thought you were someone special, someone set apart from everyone else. So I did. Because I couldn't let her stay. And then I grew up, and she _finally_ disappeared. And here we are, friends now."

"Yes. We are," Harry replied firmly, because by now he had realized he wouldn't be able to reason with her on this point, not when she wasn't in her right mind. Furthermore, she seemed to be falling further into maudlin and he didn't want her to doubt that in any capacity.

Despite his efforts to be reassuring, she frowned, looking confused. "But why?" She asked, sounding more perplexed than he thought the situation warranted. "Is it the bonding? Or just that you feel bad? Because I don't need pity, you know. That's something _she_ would have accepted - your attention for any reason - and _I _don't," she once again emphasized the difference between the two versions of herself. "I want to be me and people can either like me or not," she finished stoutly.

The question gave him pause. He wasn't really sure, nor had he considered it in depth before. Now though, he took his time considering the matter. She deserved an honest and complete answer, not cheap reassurance.

_Is it just the bonding?_ He had certainly felt much closer to her since Sirius had died. _Could it all have been just because of the bond Sirius's magic had created when the betrothal was sealed by his death?_ For a moment, doubt settled in, making him question everything. Feeling sad that perhaps he had been wrong, that they didn't naturally understand each other the way he had thought, he looked down at her.

There was a hard look on her face that was part determination and part defiance. Her shining red hair framed her face as her nose scrunched when a thought occurred to her. She turned to meet his gaze, and he was caught completely by her brown eyes and the way they blazed with passionate resolution. Looking into them, he was reminded of the many other times she'd looked like this. He could remember seeing hints of this look before, like when she called him out at Christmas or when she helped him find a way to contact Sirius when it had seemed impossible. Until recently, he had just never looked hard enough to recognize it.

Things were different now. Harry had always had too much going on, too many outside pressures to really focus on the little things. And Ginny had always been so undemanding of him that he had never taken the time to really pay attention to her. He suddenly wished that she had, because he was certain that if she had ever _wanted_ his attention on her, she would have had it and he would have seen her for who she really is. _Then again, _he thought, _she wouldn't be the brilliant but unassuming witch she is if she had, and I probably wouldn't be so impressed. _

She was now an integral part of the drama that always seemed to surround him. The circumstances had finally allowed - possibly even forced - him to notice her the way he always should have. All the things he liked about her had always been there, but had just been obscured by circumstance. She had always been there like this, just as wonderful, but out of sight and out of mind. Now that he was finally aware of it, he knew he would have fallen for her with or without the bonding.

"No, Gin," he finally replied. "It's not just the bonding, though it helps make things clearer."

The blazing, resolute look faded into something softer, more vulnerable. "Promise?" she asked, unsurely. "Because you're the only person I can feel. They're all gone now, and I don't want you to leave me too."

His heart ached for her. He'd been alone for most of his life and knew how much loneliness could hurt. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"Maybe… maybe you could be my family? And I'll be yours?" She asked in a whisper.

The pain in his chest increased. He'd always wanted a family - the Mirror of Erised had proven that - but he had always wanted the family he had lost. It had never occurred to him to want to build one of his own. The image he had seen when Bill was talking about genetics flashed again in his mind - it was of a laughing red-haired, green eyed child carefully tucked between Harry's arms on a broom - and he suddenly realized he wanted that for himself.

Ginny sagged a bit in his arms and he looked down at her. When he saw her eyes had slid away from his and she was biting her lip, he realized he hadn't answered her question. Quickly, he shoved his previous thoughts away and said with feeling, "_Yes_."

The way she sighed and melted against him chased away everything, and he felt the world around him narrow down until it was just her. "Mmkay," she mumbled as she snuggled closer. She let out a long yawn. "Thank you, Harry," she said. He felt the breath from her words through his shirt, just over his heart. "I love you."

It wasn't so surprising hearing it this time, and he didn't tense up at the unexpected emotion it brought. His heart still beat rapidly below her cheek at the words, however, and he knew she must have heard it like thunder. She didn't react, to his surprise, and he realized that must have been her last thought before she drifted off to sleep. Somehow it warmed him and he closed his eyes to better enjoy the sensation.

The next Harry knew, he had once more found himself in a dream that was preferable to reality. He was lying on a blanket beneath the trees of the orchard at the Burrow, Ginny curled up with her back pressed to his front. The flowery scent of her hair filled his senses, the quiet open air around them filling him with calm. Her bum nestled against his pelvis, and with a giggle, she squirmed, rubbing against his hardening length. In the dream he felt no embarrassment, somehow aware that it was completely normal between them there, like they had done this countless times before. He gripped her tighter, her name falling from his lips in a cross between a moan and a sigh at the sensations she was evoking..

The dream quickly dissolved as she disappeared from his arms. A noise woke him fully. He was alone in bed, surrounded by the darkness of the room, not under the shade of trees with Ginny. The warmth of the sheets beside him told him that she hadn't been gone long, however, and he assumed it was the sound of the door shutting that had woken him. Groaning in embarrassment and frustration, he prayed he hadn't done anything in his sleep to chase her off. He had a sinking feeling he had though.


	15. Chapter 13

It had been three days now. Three days since Ginny had woken up and run from Harry's company. She had been avoiding him ever since.

She woke up the morning after the ritual in bed with Harry, something she was quickly becoming used to. Feeling his erection pressed up against her bum was not.

It hadn't scared her. She hadn't even given it much thought at all actually. Years of helping her mother wake her brothers in the mornings had taught her that it was a regular occurrence for teen-aged males. All it really meant was that they had to pee. No, that wasn't why she ran.

She ran from the memories of the night before. Not only had she been a pathetic mess - she hadn't even made it back to Grimmauld Place on her own - but then she had become a raving lunatic under the influence of her cheering charm gone wrong. Harry had had to take care of her the whole time.

_So much for not being weak_, her inner voice mocked.

As she showered, she repeatedly cringed remembering all her behavior. She decided during the second shampooing of her hair that she needed to take a step back. For one, she wouldn't allow herself to depend on anyone the way she was coming to depend on Harry. For two, he deserved far better than being forced to be her caretaker. She needed to train. Of course Harry would need the training too and would be there, but she would make sure that he could focus on his own skills and not have to worry about her. She just needed to finish up getting ready and then she would make a plan.

Things went wrong almost immediately. The drying charm she usually used to smooth her hair didn't work. She attempted to cast it on only one section, but she only waved her wand once and her whole head dried far too quickly, puffed out in all directions as if she had dried it by flying her broom. It was not amusing, particularly since she had run out of the muggle hair elastics her roommate had given her. She tried another spell to flatten it, but it all stuck to her head.

Every single charm she tried went wonky in one way or another.

It was the change in her magic, she quickly realized. Nothing felt the same as she cast, the magic responding in ways she wasn't used to. Frustrated, she realized she couldn't hope to learn any advanced magic it she couldn't manage to properly cast spells she's been using since she was eleven.

Dejected, she had exited the bathroom in a huff. Unfortunately, she ran directly into Harry. The comfort she felt at his touch only rubbed salt in the wound that was knowing how useless she was to him. Her face burned with both humiliation and anger.

He stepped back from her, looking uncomfortable. "Look, Gin. I just wanted to say I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable. It was a bit embarrassing -".

Ginny knew her behavior had been erratic, but she was feeling shitty enough about her magic and behavior that she snapped peevishly, "I'm not embarrassed." She was, but the last thing she wanted was to talk about it. Gritting her teeth, she said with finality, "And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it again."

Harry looked stunned by her tone and his cheeks tinged with pink. "Right. Um, okay then. That's good, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped to the side. "I'll just get out of your way then. See you at breakfast?"

She gave a quick nod and went on her way.

She didn't see him at breakfast, however, as she had headed to Longbottom Manor immediately. Her mother had protested, not wanting her out of her sight. Ginny actually felt guilty about what she had said at the stricken look on her mother's face as she silently nodded her consent. It was a good thing she immediately relented though, because Ginny was not to be tested today.

She needed to practice with her new magic to get it under control, but she didn't want anyone to know. Neville and his Gran were busy with social obligations. In fact, they were minutes away from leaving for Neville's great uncle's home for a few days when she arrived. They had no complaints about her using the fortified dueling room in the manor to practice in their absence though.

"I was there yesterday, you know," he had said. He laughed as he continued, "I couldn't get up the stairs, mind you, but I wanted to check in when my owl went unanswered. I'm glad you're up and about today. Use whatever you need. Right, Gran?"

She was grateful that he once again helped her without asking for details, though the Longbottom matron had given her an assessing look, her eyes lingering on the Black ring too long for Ginny's comfort before she nodded her agreement.

Ginny spent the rest of that first day attempting to master her old skills. They all seemed overpowered upfront and faded far too quickly. It seemed her charms were most affected, while other types of spells were not. Naturally, given the Black inclination, her hexes were perhaps even stronger.

The memory of something Tom had said floated through her mind. _You've always known there was darkness inside you. Why do you think you took so easily to me, and I to you?_

She knew it wasn't real - couldn't be real - but Tom's whispers that she was worthless, that she was weak, that she would get Harry killed were so clear the night before that it shook her. They were still with her this morning as she had fled. The only time she felt remotely better was when she was flinging spells, no matter how ineffectively.

She kept at it all day despite the repeated failures. Just being there, doing something to fix it made her feel better. If nothing else, taking control had made her feel more optimistic. Physically, she was completed drained, but the hopeful feeling was worth the exhaustion.

Spent, she had returned back to Grimmauld Place just in time for dinner, having skipped lunch entirely. She ended up next to Harry, who looked frustrated and unhappy. Neither one of them tried to talk to the other, with the exception of one brief exchange.

"It's good to see you up, Ginny," her father said kindly. She smiled at him, but her heart sped at his next question. "Would you mind filling us all in on what happened yesterday?"

"Harry didn't tell you?" She asked in surprise and dismay.

"I wanted to wait for you," Harry said with a shrug, his eyes on his plate.

Knowing her family as she did, she had expected them to assault poor Harry with questions until he told them everything. As much as she wanted to be in control of the narrative, she also didn't want to have to explain. As she looked around the room, she realized this wasn't the case.

The twins, Ron, and Hermione all looked at her with serious, but interested expressions. Her parents mostly looked worried. Harry was still looking resolutely away from her.

So she took it upon herself to explain in the barest terms. How the bonding had made them equals in the eyes of Gringotts and they had inherited everything from Sirius jointly. How the ritual that made her Head of House Black was tiring and she kept falling asleep. How Fleur had helped by giving her some Pepper-Up Potion. How they had just barely beaten Narcissa Malfoy. At the end of her telling, she realized she didn't have the whole story, however, and turned to Harry.

"What was all that about at the end there? I gave consent for you to sign some things, but I'm just realizing I have no idea what they were."

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was accepting some vault ownership transfers, for a slew of vaults that originated in the Black family that were never claimed after death or conviction of a crime and have just been sitting in limbo basically." He refused to meet anyone's eye. "You should probably go to Gringotts though. I was more worried about you than signing and I'm sure Ragnok has more to explain."

_See, you're weak. A distraction. He'll get himself killed because of you._ Tom's malicious voice was far too real this time and Ginny shivered. It took every ounce of control she'd mastered over the years to force herself to sound remotely normal as she said, "Right. I'll do that soon, once I get a chance to talk to Bill."

It took a long time for the feeling that Tom was whispering in her ear to fade in the slightest. Though some of Ginny's physical tension drained and her energy returned throughout the meal, the resurgence of her earlier doubts did not abate. The insecurities plagued her and she felt herself spiraling into depression once more despite her improved physical state.

She took a dreamless sleep potion that night, expecting nightmares but not trusting her silencing charm to last until morning.

The next day was a repeat. Shower. Eat. Longbottom Manor for working on her new magic. Dinner, this time without the heavy conversation. Retreat. Dreamless sleep potion.

The third day, she actually saw some improvement in her charms, having gotten somewhat accustomed to the new feel of her magic. She was a bit happier that night at dinner, pleased to be making some progress. Unwilling to admit her weakness, she hadn't confided in anyone about the trouble she'd been having. She'd been so snappish in the brief conversations she'd had with everyone the past few days that no one seemed to want to ask her either. Noticing her improved mood, everyone at the table gave her odd, but hopeful looks.

Everyone except Harry, that is, who looked more taciturn than she had seen in a long time. She wondered briefly if she should ask, but he had been respectful of her boundaries the past few days and she had appreciated it. He deserved the same respect, so she let him be for the time. She was exhausted anyway and excused herself quickly after dinner.

The dreamless sleep potion prevented her from having nightmares, but she never felt as rested after a potion-induced sleep as she did normally. The change in her magic and all the practicing she had been doing had left her exhausted as well. If she weren't taking the glamour potions like clockwork, she knew her mother would have been all over her demanding that she rest.

As it was, no one said anything to either encourage her or stop her from going, though Hermione followed her this time. _This is new_, she thought. She shrugged it off, having expected the older girl to have questions about her experience with the ritual at Gringotts. Instead of the curiosity she expected, however, Ginny found a look of disapproval on her friend's face.

"I know you've been through a lot Ginny, but you're being incredibly unfair," Hermione said, sounding surprisingly angry.

Ginny blinked. "What?"

Hermione began to pace in agitation. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to us, but you should at least talk to Harry. He deserves that much." Hermione waved her hand and continued as if Ginny had given a coherent response. "Or at least take him with you if you don't want to talk. He's been wearing that ring to help you and it's obvious to anyone paying attention that the magic is irritating him. And he hates being here as much as anyone, but he won't talk about Sirius with any of us. It's not right, you leaving him behind," her friend scolded.

Ginny felt sick with guilt as it hit her. She had been incredibly selfish. In her embarrassment and frustration, she had focused only on fixing her magic. Sure, she had a goal of not being a burden to Harry, but in the process she had forgotten about him as a person and all that he was still going through. Honestly, she felt like the lowest scum of the Earth at that moment. They had been supporting one another through their grief before this, but she had abandoned him.

Her guilt and horror must have shown on her face, because Hermione only glanced at her before nodding. "Glad we understand each other," she said with finality before exiting the room.

Feeling horrible all around, Ginny magically locked the door, knowing it wouldn't last, but needing the privacy of a good cry. Harry had done everything he possibly could to help her since this mess started, yet she'd been nothing but self-centered. Her insecurities had made her so set on being strong enough to handle everything on her own that she'd completely forgotten about Harry's needs in the process. That nasty voice inside her head reminded her,_ you've always known you could never deserve someone like him._

Her emotional wall crumbled, the tears falling without permission. _Weak_, the voice in her mind taunted. She had no right to cry, not when she was the one who had done wrong, but she couldn't seem to stop it. Admitting defeat, she decided to give herself five minutes, just five minutes to fall apart, and then she would pull herself together, apologize to Harry, and be there for him. Instead, she drifted off to sleep and fell into a nightmare.

_Both she and Harry were tied up, but positioned on opposites of a dark room, Voldemort between them delivering a speech. Ginny focused on struggling against the ropes that held her, focusing on nothing but trying to escape. She could see her wand just feet away - if she could reach it, then she'd be able to free Harry. _

_She _needed _to free him. _

_She was only vaguely aware of Tom ranting about how he'd finally won, but he would give them one more chance to escape. Ginny ignored him and struggled harder, knowing better than to trust him._

"_Ginny!" Harry called out. She immediately stopped her struggling and looked up. Voldemort was holding Harry in front of him with his wand pointed at Harry's throat._

"_Well, Ginevra? Do you know the answer?" He taunted, his red snake-like eyes alight with malicious glee._

_Ginny didn't even know what was happening anymore. "What?" She was confused, but more than anything panicked. He was taunting her with Harry and he knew it. She felt ill just seeing Harry in his clutches. _

_The defeated look on Harry's face told her she had done something wrong. Voldemort let out a cruel laugh and Ginny began to fight harder. She knew she could save him if she could get her wand._

_Voldemort wasn't worried, "Pathetic," he said to her. Then he turned and spoke to Harry. "Too bad the girl never learned how to listen. Had she been paying attention, perhaps you could have survived. Avada Kedavra."_

A green light flashed and Ginny woke screaming.

The door flew open. She wasn't sure if the locking charm had worn off or if Harry had simply overpowered it, but there he was. He was by her side before she could blink. She threw herself into his arms without hesitation, no longer concerned with how weak it made her, and sobbed hysterically, reveling in the fact that he was alive and she had a chance, however small, to fix what she had done.

Her earlier conviction to put aside her insecurities was still strong. She knew she had done damage though, that it may be too late and he may not trust her or want her comfort anymore, but she could try. She found herself sobbing over and over, "I'm so sorry." She didn't expect him to forgive her - hadn't she held a grudge when he had forgotten about the Chamber? - but she needed him to know. She owed him that much - really she owed him much, much more, even though she wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he didn't want to accept it.

Harry held her tight, not saying anything, just weaving his hands into her hair for a long time. When she finally calmed enough that she was crying quietly instead of hyperventilating, he pulled back and looked at her face. He looked almost as exhausted as she felt. His expression was guarded, but there was concern buried there as well. In a very matter-of-fact tone, he said, "You look like shit, Gin. Enough is enough. Come on."

He lifted her up and set her on her feet, taking both her hands and leading her from the room. Her parents, Ron, Hermione, and Tonks were all there, just outside the room watching them. Ginny ignored them all, only having eyes for Harry.

The comfort touching him again brought would have overwhelmed her if it weren't for the guilt. Her thoughts were consumed wondering what he was thinking and if she'd be able to make it up to him. Willingly, she followed him up the stairs to Sirius's room.

He held the door for her. She entered, but stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. She wasn't sure what he expected or if he wanted her anywhere near him.

Despite her doubts, she still felt slightly better just being there. The room felt like _theirs. _It was the one place that they seemed to really open up to one another in a way that they never had before. Comfort washed over her as she looked at the bed, remembering the way he had stayed with her and the way they had laughed together, the memories evoking a slight optimism. It was tempered by her guilt.

She'd never been good at apologizing, but she wanted him to know how she felt. Sniffling, she turned to where he was standing with his back leaning against the closed door. The words rushed out, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I- I've been having a hard time, but that's no excuse. I should have talked to you about it." She had to wipe her nose on her sleeve before continuing. "I didn't mean to push you away. I mean, I did, but I didn't want you to have to worry about me or take care of me. You've done so much already… and I _was_ embarrassed actually. I'm having trouble with my magic and it made me act like a lunatic in front of you and I don't want to be another thing you feel responsible for-" she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. She was rambling and needed to stop making excuses. "None of that really matters though. I was being selfish and only thinking about myself. I didn't mean to leave you alone in this. I'm so sorry."

Harry just looked at her intently. She saw hesitation there, but also confusion. Ice pumped through her veins as she waited for some type of response. Whether it be absolution or rejection, she was sure _knowing _how he felt would be better than this waiting.

She dropped her eyes and dug at skin beneath her nails. Each one was already raw, but her nerves compelled her to keep going despite the pain and blood blooming there. Harry stopped her, his own hands taking hers and holding firmly.

His expression hadn't changed much, but more confusion was showing through. "What are you talking about Ginny? I thought I had-"

"No," she said forcefully, closing her eyes and shaking her head. _Of course Harry had blamed himself. Didn't he always? _Guilt and regret warred inside of her, but she pushed both aside, knowing she couldn't let it drag her down until she had set the record straight. "You did absolutely nothing wrong," she said clearly, looking him directly in the eye. "You did everything for me I could have asked for and more."

She paused, having to swallow her nerves before she could force the rest out. It didn't help that Harry was now observing her through narrowed eyes. It was clear he didn't believe her. He made to say something, but she raised her hands in a halting gesture and spoke quickly.

"It made me feel weak. You know I had dreams about _him _that night and I just kept remembering that I almost got you killed once before." He tried to interrupt again, but she wouldn't let him. "I don't want to be a liability. You shouldn't have to take care of me, Harry. I want to _help_ you. That's why I want us both to start training. But that morning I realized all my charms were going haywire." She looked at him pleadingly, gripping his hands tighter, "How am I supposed to learn more advanced magic if I can't even perform a drying charm on my hair?"

He sighed and pulled back, looking away and allowing his hands to slide out of hers. "I would have helped you," he said quietly.

She shrunk into herself a bit. "I know, but you shouldn't have to."

He continued a bit more harshly, the tone conveying just how much her behavior bothered him, "You asked me to stay with you. You said we'd be like family, but you ran instead of just talking to me. It hasn't been easy for me either."

She nodded contritely. "You're right," she said, her gaze unwavering, trying to let him know how much she meant it. "It was wrong and I'm sorry." Her voice became a bit desperate. "I didn't realize… I didn't want to put my problems on you, but I realize now that instead I just made it worse for both of us."

His face had lost some of the anger that had been present before, exhaustion replacing it. He sat down on the bed and looked down at his left hand, twisting the Black signet ring there. Silence reigned for a long moment.

Eventually, she asked tentatively, "Hermione said the magic has been agitating you. Are you alright?"

He gave her a sharp look that made her drop her gaze a shuffle her feet. She deserved the censure. Given how she felt and the way her magic had reacted, she should have asked long before now how he was feeling. She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to stay both quiet and centered.

She hadn't felt any true measure of control since Gringotts. _You're doing it again, _she scolded herself. _Stop being such a brat._ She heard him sigh and shift a bit, but she kept her eyes down, refusing to let him see the moisture that had accumulated there. He'd just feel guilty then, and she had no interest in manipulating forgiveness out of him.

Eventually he spoke, "It's not that bad, more like an itch than anything." He paused, but she kept quiet. "I can hardly feel it now..."

Ginny heard him and understood that he meant "now that you're here." _Going to Longbottom Manor had likely made it worse then_. The guilt intensified. She nodded, "Right. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have left if I had known. I should have asked."

"It's over now," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion and defeat. "What about you though? Tell me what's going on with your magic."

She turned away to hide her face, distracting herself be trailing her fingers along the desk. He wasn't exactly being warm or friendly, but he was still being far too nice to her. She couldn't help but ask him why, taking a fleeting look at him as she did so.

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Honestly? The past few days have been utter shite. Am I a little angry that I spent all that time thinking I'd done something wrong when it was your own issue? Yeah." He paused and she glanced at him again, watching as he stared at the ceiling briefly before shrugging. "I wish you would have just talked to me, but I can't really judge you for it when I've done the same. You know that."

His eyes caught hers as he righted his head. This time she didn't look away, searching for any sign that he didn't mean what he was saying. She couldn't detect any deception, only that lingering air of defeat.

She didn't think she deserved to be forgiven yet though. Harry was a better person than she was, so it wasn't surprising that he would want to move on, but it still didn't seem right. He seemed to understand what she was thinking.

"There's no point in holding onto it. You said you're sorry. I believe you. From here on out though, we're in this together, alright?" He asked. The note of uncertainty in his tone told her that while she may have been forgiven, she still had ground to make up in earning his confidence back.

"Together," she nodded. "I promise," she said, making the vow to herself as much as to him. _Merlin_, just sitting in the same room with him was comforting, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances.

"Now come here and tell me what's been going on with your magic," he instructed.

She sat beside him, careful not to touch him. She knew she'd feel better if she did - the brief moments his hands had held hers she had felt none of the pain or lingering exhaustion she had felt these past few days - but she also didn't want to push him. Instead she tucked her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting and haltingly explained everything that had happened, from the hair drying charm to feathers that hit the ceiling and then dropped immediately when she cast a _Wingardium Leviosa._ She even admitted the unnerving truth that her hexes were stronger. The only thing she left out was her disappointment that she couldn't cast a patronus at all, not even the faintest silver mist.

Throughout her monologue, he listened attentively, nodding along and staring at the far wall as he considered everything. He made no move to interrupt her. Even when she ran out of breath and things to say, he was quiet for what felt like a long time.

Eventually, he asked, "Have you considered talking to Bill about this? He seemed to know more about this kind of thing than anyone else."

She quickly shook her head. "No. I told you, I didn't want anyone to know. I wanted to get it under control before we talked to Bill again about training."

He looked at her, his gaze appraising with a hard edge to it. "So Neville doesn't count then?"

She didn't like the sarcastic tone, but understood it. If he thought she had been confiding in Neville but not him _again_… well, if the situation were reversed, she'd be upset too. He was entitled to be offended.

Calmly, she looked him in the eye, doing her best to convey that she was being honest, and said, "I didn't tell him either, Harry. He and his Gran are traveling right now. They've just been letting me use the dueling room at the manor, since it's reinforced against spell damage." She looked away then, apprehensively admitting, "It seemed like a good idea, since I can't trust what my spells will do. It helps that there is no one else around that I could hurt by mistake."

That was another thing she had worried about a lot. She suddenly felt dangerous, like she couldn't trust herself to safely cast magic around others. Every time she tried a spell that could be used in a fight, images of Ron's wand backfiring and Seamus Finnegan's propensity to cause things to explode flashed through her mind, except she knew if something like that were to happen with her magic it would be much worse than those instances.

Harry gently pried her hands off her legs. She hadn't even realized she had released them and had been gripping herself so tightly that she was leaving marks. Relief and regret washed over her when he didn't let go.

Acting this way made her feel horrible - she had no right to look to him for comfort after the way she had been acting - but hiding the truth from him had started this mess in the first place. She _did _trust him and - had she allowed herself to be near him in private at all before now - she was sure she would have told him already. _Why hadn't she just told him?_ The time for regrets had passed however.

When she looked up at him, she knew that she didn't want to hide anymore. Her eyes filled with tears as she admitted quietly, "I'm afraid. Not being able to control myself... it feels too much like what happened with _him. _I swear I can still hear his voice echoing in my head." A shiver shook her body just at the thought.

Harry - the wonderful, generous, far-too-good-for-her person that he was - immediately pulled her tightly into his arms. She didn't cry this time, but held onto him as strongly as he held her, grateful he was willing to give her the chance. She promised herself that she'd be better - that she'd find a way to be deserving of all the things he had done for her.

"He's not here, Gin. I won't let him near you. We'll keep you safe, I promise," he said into her hair as he tightened his grip further. She supposed it should have felt uncomfortable, but all she felt was safe.

As much as she appreciated his sentiments, she couldn't accept them. Softly, she said, "I don't want you to protect me, Harry. I want to protect you and help you finish the bastard for real this time." She pulled back then to look at him before continuing. "I know I don't have much right to ask this after how I've been the past few days, but please don't try to leave me behind. Together, right?"

Harry searched her face, his own expression showing apprehension. It was clear that he didn't like the idea of her being with him throughout everything. It would have stung, but there was enough worry in his eyes that she knew it was only because he didn't want her in danger, not because he didn't want her help. She looked back at him steadily, unwavering in her conviction to support him. Resignation flashed in his expression as he recognized she wouldn't be swayed.

"Alright," he answered, although he sounded reluctant. "But we're getting your magic figured out and training before we even consider going out in public again, okay?"

Ginny didn't like it - she hated being treated like a child - but she knew she would be a liability to him until then. Going out like this would put him at risk, because he would undoubtedly be more focused on protecting her than himself. That was one of the last things she wanted, so there was nothing she could do but agree.

"Good," he sighed. He looked at her face again. "You really do look exhausted, Gin. You're still taking those potions, aren't you?"

Her first instinct was to deny it - she couldn't believe she had admitted to that under the effects of the cheering charm - but she pushed it back. It felt shameful admitting it though, and she had to look away when she nodded.

"Let's lie down," he said, tugging on her hand. "You need some real rest."

She didn't argue, sliding up the bed and lying down beside him. He was right. Besides, she always slept better here in this room in bed with him. She didn't allow herself to dwell on why that was. An audible sigh escaped without her permission and she closed her eyes in relief as the tension drained out of her.

"Better?" He asked her softly. His tone was full of warmth. She imagined she could feel it spread out of that single word and into her, chasing away the icy fear that had consumed her for days now.

"So much better," she breathed, scooting closer and taking his hand again.

Harry let out a chuckle, twining his fingers with hers. Realizing what she had just done, her eyes flew open. For the first time in days, his eyes were soft with fondness and amusement as he looked at her.

She felt that once-familiar blush rise to her cheeks. It was the innocent blush of embarrassment at having done something silly, like putting her elbow in the butter dish. There was something nostalgic about it that was comforting, but its inexplicable resurgence _now_ after she hadn't experienced it in Harry's presence for years was troubling. Harry rescued her from having to think about it.

"I agree," he said softly. He sounded as at peace as she felt. It put her at ease to know that he was comforted by her presence in the same manner that she was by him. For all that it was reassuring, the shadow of the way she had run away hung over them still. He kept their fingers twined, but looked away as he continued. "I've been staying here, you know. But it's not the same when you're not here."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She had a feeling he didn't need to hear it again, but she wanted to be clear that she really meant it.

He shook his head and brushed some hair behind her ear. Ginny felt the same tingling feeling she had when he helped her with her hair the morning of Gringotts. It was stronger this time, the feeling and heat radiating out from the spot in large waves.

The sensation was so powerful that she wondered if it was from being away from him for so long, their connection through the betrothal, or the magic of the ritual that was to blame for it, There was no way it could just be _him_, could it?

_Don't lie to yourself, darling, _a voice in her head said.

Unlike the usual ghostly whispers in her mind, this voice was much gentler than any of the others. It sounded almost like her mother. Ginny had to concede that whether there was magic at work here, part of it came down to just Harry being who he was. He had always represented safety and comfort.

After all, wasn't that why she had taken to avoiding him in her second year?

She had liked to use the excuse that it was because she made him uncomfortable; the shade of red he had turned when she handed him that awful singing card in the hospital wing after the dementor incident on the Quidditch pitch proved it, as far as she was concerned. It wasn't quite accurate, however. Deep down, it was really because watching Harry fall out of the sky while Tom laughed cruelly in her head had been one of the worst experiences of her life and she hadn't felt the cold fear leave her until she saw him for herself. He had been pale and shaken, but the simple sight of him _alive_ had made her feel better than all the chocolate and cheering charms she had tried combined. That realization motivated her to stay away; she couldn't be reliant upon him if she was ever going to get better enough to feel decent about herself.

At the time, her reasoning had been sound. He was uncomfortable in her presence, and she needed to heal on her own without using him as a crutch. They weren't friends or anything, so there was no harm in avoiding him or building an emotional wall around any feelings she had toward him.

It had never gone away, she realized. Even as they had developed an actual relationship that went beyond their connection between Ron into friendship, the wall had remained firmly in place. She thought she had gotten over those feelings, but they were just carefully sectioned off in a part of her mind that she dared not acknowledge; she was just too accustomed to it to recognise that it was still there.

Now aware of it, she knew it was going to be difficult to get past. She suspected it may be as hard and painful as tearing down an actual brick wall with her bare hands. If they were going to make this work and really be a team, though, she knew she would have to. It would require more trust on her end than she had given anyone in nearly four years, but she knew that there was no one more worthy of her trust than Harry.

Perhaps that was part of why it was so hard. He was the one person who could make or break what remained of her fragile ability to rely on others. If somehow it all fell apart, she would never be the same. She quickly pushed that thought aside. _You can trust him_, she told herself firmly.

The soft look she saw when she looked at him strengthened her belief. His face was so close to hers that she could see all the shades that made the green of his so bright, and they were looking into her plain brown ones with such openness and honesty that she decided now was the time to remove the first brick.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. She felt the wetness that gathered in her eyes, but she refused to blink and let the tears fall. "Will you help me?"

It was a quiet question, laced with uncertainty. Admitting how lost and defeated she truly felt made her feel more exposed than if she had been standing in front of the class and pulling off her jumper.

Harry's gaze didn't waver. His voice was soft, but it was sure as he replied, "Of course I'll help, Gin. Whatever is wrong, we'll find a way to fix it." He paused. "Just not tonight, okay? We could both do with some rest."

She nodded, her eyes closing. The exhaustion teamed with all the crying she had done recently made her eyes burn even while shut. Unconsciously she scooted closer to him, sighing in relief at how good it felt to be so close to him again.

"I really missed you." The words had escaped without her consent.

They were more like a breath than actual words, and she fervently hoped he hadn't heard. Fate wasn't on her side, it seemed, and she felt him freeze. She squeezed her eyes tighter to ward against the feeling of utter humiliation at her admission._ Maybe the bed will open up and swallow me whole._

The inner turmoil was short-lived. Barely a beat passed before Harry replied just as softly, "Me too."

Her eyes flew open, wondering if she had imagined it. The look he gave her was so shockingly tender that she must have heard him correctly. _This has got to be some kind of dream. _But when his hand slipped out of her hair and down so that it was cupping her cheek, she could feel the pulse in his wrist where it lay against her neck beating as rapidly as her own and knew it had to be real - she'd never experienced a dream that tactile before.

His thumb stroked her cheek. The feeling that simple actions brought was so overwhelmingly peaceful that she was tempted to close her eyes and let herself melt into it completely, until all the jagged edges and worries that had been consuming her thoughts lately had been smothered by it. She couldn't bring herself to break eye contact, though, because his gaze was still direct and locked onto hers.

There was a tension between them that was completely unexpected. Ginny honestly didn't know what to do with it. Her heart pounded in her chest and heat radiated throughout her, preventing her from doing anything other than stare at him with wide eyes. Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Harry broke the connection.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "We really should get to bed," he said, his voice sounding deeper than usual. It could have been her imagination, she guessed. The blush on his cheeks that she glimpsed before he pulled his wand and extinguishing the lamps was definitely real, however.

"Yeah," she replied, flipping onto her back. She didn't focus on the breathless quality to her voice. Her mind was too busy spinning as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Harry had never looked at her like that before. She had never seen Harry look at _anyone_ like that before, not even Cho.

Her thoughts racing, she sat stock-still while he removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. He had to roll away to reach it, but he quickly came back to her side. The movement had left slightly more distance between them than before. Even though their bodies were close enough that she could feel his heat, there was enough space between them that they didn't touch. The lack of contact left her feeling bereft.

In the minutes that followed, neither one of them spoke or moved. Finally he shifted a bit and Ginny shifted automatically in response. Whether it was her movement or his that had done it, their hands touched and their fingers intertwined again. Their rigid postures thawed simultaneously at the contacted.

Feeling much better now, Ginny let out a light laugh. "Goodnight, Harry," she said warmly.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Goodnight, Gin."


	16. Chapter 14

Harry couldn't believe how much had happened in the last week. After getting ready that first morning, he had gone down to breakfast in search of Ginny, unaware that she was already gone. It had been a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley being comforted by Hermione that greeted him in the kitchen instead.

"Ginny left for Neville's place," Hermione answered his unasked question. She shot a worried look at Mrs. Weasley before continuing quietly, "She said she couldn't stay here, that it felt like _he _was here, because of all the snakes…" she trailed off as Mrs. Weasley let out a sound like she was choking.

"I didn't know that she was still having so much trouble… I would have - maybe we could have…" she gave up as Hermione hugged and shushed her.

"Oh," Harry said. He wasn't sure what to say. While he didn't think Ginny would tell such a painful lie, he couldn't shake the feeling that her flight was more to do with him than the house. They had talked pretty frankly the night before, and if anyone were to understand feeling like Voldemort was with you when he shouldn't be, it was him. _She would have talked to him, right?_

Further comment was unnecessary as Mrs. Weasley pulled away from Hermione. The way she brushed herself off, straightened her shoulders, and wiped all the sadness from her face was so reminiscent of the way he'd seen her daughter pull herself together that Harry found himself looking at the flames in the gate, longing to go after Ginny.

Mr. Weasley saved him from that impulse by asking for a word with him. Or, Harry thought he was being saved, until he caught the serious look on the older man's face. "I believe Ron is in the shower. Would you mind following me to your room? It will only be a minute."

Harry took a seat on his bed and watched Mr. Weasley apprehensively. The Weasley patriarch had his back turned to him, silently examining the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus. As the silence extended, Harry felt a shiver of apprehension. _He knows you were in the room last night and he probably knows that neither of you left it. Of course you're in trouble._

"Sir," Harry began, but Mr. Weasley shook his head and he fell silent. When Ginny's father turned around, Harry was surprised to see that he wasn't angry; his face was drawn and tired looking, but there was no reproach in it.

"I gave my wife a Sleeping Draught last night," he started. "I knew she'd be a mess, but it wouldn't help anyone to have her fretting or interfering. I couldn't sleep myself, so I checked in on you."

Harry gulped. He'd known that someone would check on them, hadn't he? He shouldn't have fallen asleep with her in bed like that, but…

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly at him before his thoughts could become too negative. "I don't intend to share what I found with Molly, Harry. It's…" he gave a rueful chuckle. "I know I'm supposed to threaten you or be angry, but you've never done any one of us harm." His face grew serious. "I can't imagine you _ever_ doing so, and you've been a greater help to Ginny than any of us could be. After what I saw last night, you're clearly what she needs… and it was equally as clear that you're willing and able to be there for her."

Harry nodded a bit numbly. This what not what he had expected. Instead of reassuring him however, Mr. Weasley's wording had struck a chord of doubt in him. It was beginning to grow and spread even as he tried to listen to what the older man was now saying.

"Thank you for being there for her, Harry. It's a difficult thing to trust your baby to another, but it makes things a bit easier having seen that." Mr. Weasley then gave Harry a direct look and said, "We've done you both a terrible injustice with this betrothal. I know that we took something from you both, but… we love you like one of our own sons, Harry. We want you to be safe too."

Harry knew it had been far too long since he said anything, so he nodded, letting the other man know he had heard him at least. It was a bit overwhelming, hearing that they cared for him so much, and the doubt…

Mr. Weasley seemed to understand that he needed some time to himself and made his farewell. Harry quickly decided his room wasn't private enough and headed to spend some time with Buckbeak in the master bedroom. _He could use the compan_y, Harry thought, trying to convince himself he wasn't hiding.

He couldn't hide from his own thoughts though. It was during his time with Buckbeak that the doubts started to form concretely in his mind, lining up like dominos until they are collided and fell toward a painful conclusion.

Mr. Weasley had said he, Harry, was what Ginny needed. She _needed _him. Wasn't that why he had felt so close to Sirius too, because he needed him? It made him feel different… special.

He had also said that he and Ginny had had something taken from them. The words he had overheard Ginny saying to Ron that first night came back to him. All she had ever wanted was to love and to be loved, but the betrothal had - and by extension, he had - taken that from her.

Hermione had said he had a "saving people thing". Was that what everything he thought he was feeling came down to? Was it just that he saw Ginny had needed him, felt like she had already given too much, and he wanted to save her from losing even more?

Ginny had asked him just the night before if it was just the bonding, why they were suddenly friends. He knew that wasn't true. They had been friends before that, though not as close. He had also privately thought it was more, but she had been looking at him so vulnerable, asking him to be her new family, that it was no wonder he couldn't deny her. She had inspired him to want to create his own future and family, but was he really just projecting what he thought _she_ wanted?

What if somehow the idea had formed just because he didn't want to feel like he had taken something away from her by being bonded to him? He knew that it had been done to protect her, but he couldn't help feeling she never would have been in that position if it weren't for him.

Hadn't Tom said she'd written to him about Harry? Hadn't she taken the diary back into her possession to get it away from him? Would Ron have been there for her if he hadn't been so caught up with Harry? Maybe he was just imagining his want because he refused to rob her of what she so desperately desired.

As low as that idea made him feel, it was made worse by the fact that it was pointless to worry about. Whether it was because he genuinely liked her or because of some misguided hero complex didn't matter when he had so thoroughly chased her off. So he whiled away the time shut in the musty room with Buckbeak, asking himself if he'd ever learn how to do right by Ginny Weasley.

The next three days until Ginny's nightmare and their talk had passed similarly. Ginny avoided him and the rest of Grimmauld Place as much as possible. Harry spent his time brooding and sulking in the company of Buckbeak, who provided him with the closest thing to comfort he could find in Ginny's absence. He spent his nights in Sirius's room, though Ginny never came. His doubts only grew, until he was sure he'd lied to himself and her.

But then she had the nightmare and his doubts didn't matter. Whatever the truth about his feelings, Ginny and her feelings mattered to him. Taking care of her mattered.

It was true that he hadn't been happy when she had disappeared to Longbottom Manor that first day after Gringotts without so much as a word of explanation to him. He'd kept quiet though, blaming himself for making her uncomfortable with his morning predicament and feeling guilty for his convoluted feelings. His self-recrimination had shifted to anger at her when it became apparent that he hadn't chased her off so much as she had just run away.

It rankled that she hadn't trusted him at first. Especially when he thought she had trusted Neville instead. Those feelings dissipated when he had seen how vulnerable she was as she admitted the whole truth.

Letting go of the hurt feelings had been easier than anticipated. He supposed he could have held onto his worst thoughts, but it didn't seem fair. He was intimately familiar with how hard changing your habits could be. After all, how many times had he promised himself he was going to get closer to her over the years only to be distracted by the next big thing? He'd forgotten as recently as this semester.

And they'd shared _something_, when their eyes met and he touched her cheek. Everything besides her had been so far away in that moment, and he had been so tempted to just lean in and kiss her. Luckily some part of his brain was still functioning and he had been able to come to his senses before that. He'd done a lot of stupid things over the years, but he was pretty sure that would have topped them for most embarassing and complicated.

Having decided to move on, he had woken up feeling much lighter than he had in a long time. It was in part due to the fact that having Ginny curled up beside him had allowed him to have his first decent night's sleep in days, but it was also knowing that she had made the decision to trust him. He had every intention of making sure he was worthy of that trust, so the morning after their late night discussion, they had risen together and headed here to begin working on her magic like he had promised.

Despite feeling better than he had in days, some doubt still lingered. He knew at least part of his determination stemmed from the fact that she needed him, and he wasn't about to let her down.

His doubt rapidly dissolved as they worked at Longbottom Manor, until now, four days after her nightmare, they had all but completely vanished. The less than ideal circumstances should have meant that they were in for a rough and emotionally exhausting time, but being alone with Ginny had been brilliant.

Every day since her nightmare, he accompanied her to her practicing to "help" her. It turned out that she hadn't really needed him or his help, so much as she needed _time_. He hadn't really done anything but provide moral support. Though, maybe that was helping in and of itself, as she did seem much happier now that they were working together than the days they had spent apart.

Harry could say the same for himself. Watching her determination as she battled her "wonky magic" (as she was prone to calling it) was nothing short of inspiring. _And captivating._ Just before casting, her eyes would light up blazingly, and she would give a little shake of her head as she steeled herself that made her hair shimmer like actual fire. Sometimes he thought he felt the magic building - given the bond and the fact that he still wore Orion's ring, maybe he actually was feeling it - but he thought it was more likely that he imagined it because he was watching her so intently.

_Things had definitely gotten better_, Harry decided as he watched Ginny banish a training dummy without causing it to explode. She flashed him a radiant, triumphant smile when she used her wand to successful levitate it back into place. _Much better_.

"So I've been thinking," she broke into his thoughts as she turned around, "and I honestly haven't the faintest clue how they did it. Sirius really didn't explain at all?"

_Huh? _Harry quickly thought back, trying to remember what they had just been talking about. _Oh! _They'd taken to both sleeping in Sirius's room again, reading the stories Sirius had left behind that he had been too afraid to look at without her. Though Ginny tended to fall asleep midway through stories, exhausted as she was from practicing so much magic, her presence and the stories he'd read had lessened his apprehension. They were just discussing the story they read last night…

"Honestly, Gin, I have no idea. Dumbledore is a legilimens! Unless he let them get away with it, there is no way they were able to sneak into his quarters. Even if we allow that the cloak let them slip through the headmaster's office, he still should have known," he replied. The more he thought it over though, he figured Dumbledore probably _had_ let them get away with it. Considering his choice in robes…

"Well, he does seem rather fond of purple, doesn't he?" Ginny said, echoing his thoughts. Her eyes, bright with amusement, held Harry captive. He was sure he was smiling goofily at her, but he was beyond caring when she laughed. "He was probably thrilled to have his beard and robes match for once!"

"You might be right," Harry said. Then he laughed. "Still though, how'd they convince _fairies_ to nest in it?"

Ginny laughed, free and unabashed. She laughed so hard that she ended up leaning into his side as he laughed with her. His heart soared - at the merriment, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her where she leaned into him. Even when the sound faded, he could still feel her shaking with it beneath his hand resting on her back. It was one of those rare moments that was so pure no darkness could intrude upon it.

It was shattered by a voice behind them.

"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes," Neville said. Ginny straightened up, still smiling, and turned to greet him. Harry turned as well, but kept his hand on her back. Neville was smiling widely at them, but his eyes gravitated toward Ginny, Harry noted with annoyance. There was nothing but relief and friendliness in his tone when he continued, "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

Ginny's face turned slightly pink as she cast a glance at Harry, but her smile didn't fade. "I'm feeling better, thank you." Harry's thumb brushed her back. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Harry with me. He's been helping me with some things," she added.

Neville shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. You're welcome any time, mate," he directed at Harry.

For his part, Harry nodded and forced a smile. "Nice to see you, Neville. Have a nice trip?" Even he could tell his words lacked the necessary enthusiasm.

Instead of looking insulted or off-put, Neville's expression shifted to something tinged with amusement. "Yeah, we did. Thanks," he said jovially.

Uncomfortable, Harry stepped closer to Ginny, and the amused glint in Neville's eye grew. Ginny missed it, having been looking at Harry with veiled curiosity, though she thankfully didn't comment.

The clock chiming out six times offered Harry an escape from the moment. Looking at Ginny, he said, "We've got to get back, Gin. We promised your mum we'd be back by now. She's already probably worried."

Ginny bit her lip and hesitated. She glanced between him and Neville. Finally, she said, "Do you mind going on ahead and letting her know that Neville just returned and I'll be along in a few minutes?" Harry fought to keep the irritation off his face. She must have caught a glimpse of it, because she leaned in and added quietly, "I just want to thank Mrs. Longbottom. It'd probably be better if you were there to thank her too, but I don't want Mum to worry."

Harry wanted to stay. Not to thank Mrs. Longbottom, but to stay closer to Ginny. Still, the worry in her tone was evident when she talked about her mother, so he reluctantly agreed. Harry and Ginny followed Neville out of the dueling room and into the main hall, where Harry would go left to use the floo in the foyer and Neville would take Ginny to the right in search of his Gran. Harry's hand had fallen away from Ginny's back as they walked, but she reached out and squeezed it once before they split.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

He felt better at the smile she gave him. "You're welcome," he told her warmly. He turned to Neville and gave him a perfunctory nod. "Thanks again," he said.

Neville was still giving him that stupid grin when he replied, "Anytime."

Harry then left, feeling very irritated with the other boy. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for the welcome or that he doubted Neville's sincerity. He just didn't like the… _whatever_ it was that the other boy shared with Ginny. _Not that it's more than friendship, _he assured himself. There was a familiarity there that bothered him, especially since he hadn't known it existed until very recently. Maybe it was _because_ he hadn't known.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting nervously when he stepped out of the floo. His regret at having been forced to leave washed away at the sight of her. Her face paled and she looked to be about to launch into a string of worried questioning, so he quickly explained.

"Ginny is fine, Mrs. Weasley," he said soothingly. She relaxed and he continued, "Neville and his Gran got back just as we were leaving, and she wanted to say thank you. She'll be along shortly."

"That's good. I'm glad she's remembering her manners," Mrs. Weasley said, though it lacked any real conviction.

Harry took a moment to look at her, _really _look at her. The bags under her eyes were more prevalent than ever, her hair wild and clothes rumpled. Everything about her radiated worry. He suddenly felt a bit bad for not thinking of her feelings more.

She had been far more lenient than her usual self since the betrothal had come out. Harry wasn't sure who exactly was aware of how he and Ginny had been spending their nights (Ron, Hermione and Mr. Weasley certainly knew, though they all seemed to be covering it up), but even if she didn't know quite that much, she still had allowed them to leave Grimmauld Place unattended for extended periods of time, something he never would have expected to happen. _It's the guilt_, he realized.

"Mrs. Weasley?" He asked tentatively. It wasn't really in his nature to insert himself into complicated family situations - what did he know of the dynamics between parents and their children? - but he was worried about her. Mrs. Weasley was the closest thing to a mother he could remember having, after all. He had no concept of how to address her feelings though, so he simply asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook herself from her daze at his words and gave him a small, kind smile. "No, thank you, dear. It's very sweet of you to offer though," she said as she reached out and rubbed his shoulder fondly. To his credit, Harry didn't flinch, even though the gesture felt foreign. "I've plenty of time tonight, in fact. Dinner isn't for another hour, as Bill will be joining us tonight. He owled earlier today."

Harry perked up at that news. Two days ago he had managed to convince Ginny to reach out to her brother. She'd been making good progress, but he'd seen how skilled she had been before, and she still hadn't managed to regain her previous level of ability. Hopefully Bill would be able to provide a solution. Ginny had only agreed on the condition that they discuss Harry's situation and need to train as well.

Mrs. Weasley didn't allow him to stay and help - or wait for Ginny. She sent him upstairs to wash up instead. He had overslept a bit this morning and needed to bathe anyway, so he went ahead and took a shower, not knowing how long the conversation with Bill would take later. When he was done, he went looking for Ginny.

Surprisingly, he found her in the room she shared with Hermione instead of Sirius's. She was still wearing the clothes she had trained in that day and was lying atop her bed, asleep. He gently shook her awake, not wanting to disturb her, but also afraid to let her fall into nightmares as she usually did when she slept alone here. He also knew she needed to keep her strength up if she was going to keep practicing magic at the rate she had been and that meant she needed to eat dinner.

She didn't fully look to be awake, even by the time they entered the kitchen and met with her parents, Bill, Ron, and Hermione. She greeted her eldest brother warmly, but without her usual exuberance. She ate, but it was rather distractedly, and spent more time casting glances at him than engaging in the conversations at the dinner table. At one point, he whispered quietly, "It'll be fine. Relax." She had given him a weak smile in response. There was something off, Harry knew, but he chalked it up to nerves at the coming conversation.

He tried to provide a distraction by including her in conversation with Ron and Hermione, since Bill was occupied in conversation with her parents. Honestly, he missed talking about nothing of importance with his two best friends, though probably not as much as he should have, considering he hadn't seen much of his friends over the last week. Aside from an hour here or there during which the four of them discussed the lack of progress on the research Ron and Hermione had been doing on the bonding, he had only spent a short amount of time talking to Ron alone most nights before going upstairs to meet Ginny. He assumed Ginny and Hermione had a similar ritual.

When dinner ended, Ron took both his and Hermione's plates to the sink while Hermione thanked Mrs. Weasley for the meal. They left the room together with a quick goodbye to everyone else. They didn't wait for him or ask if he or Ginny would be joining them. _Perhaps they aren't missing me that much either, _Harry thought with a smile. He had a feeling that their relationship was finally heading toward a romantic nature. If that transition was smoothed by his absence for the moment, he was okay with that. He had more pressing concerns of his own anyway.

Bill and Ginny had helped clear the table during his distraction. Bill used a cleaning charm on the table, while the Wealsey parents stood at the sink doing the dishes side by side. Mr. Weasley was humming a song he didn't know, but was sure was off beat, while Mrs. Weasley swayed and laughed at his mistakes. Harry suspected that he was witnessing something of a ritual between the Weasley parents, as he knew Mrs. Weasley was capable of washing the dishes by magic when she was alone or when there was an excessive amount to be cleaned.

When the table was clean, Bill said, "I'm going to borrow Harry and Ginny for a bit, if that's alright. Just a few things they should know about their new accounts," he lied smoothly.

Mrs. Weasley, still in a better mood than she had been for days, replied without turning around. "Of course, dear. Thank you for your help. Please come for dinner more often."

Mr. Weasley gave Bill a quick glance over his shoulder that clearly communicated he had heard the lie in his son's words, but didn't press. The exchange made Harry realize that out of all the Weasleys, it seemed Ginny and Bill had a particularly close relationship with their father. There seemed to be a level of respect between the three of them that wasn't present in their relationships with the other members of the family.

They were once more situated in the study, as they had been just over a week ago, and finally about to finish their conversation. When Ginny didn't immediately begin, Bill started.

"I wasn't lying actually, I did have some Gringotts business to talk about," he said before turning to Harry. "You handled the Black accounts, but you're of majority now, which means you need to handle the Potter family assets as well. It wouldn't be wise to leave them for too long. The goblins would consider it disrespectful, taking it as a sign that you were uninterested in your fortune and the work they do."

"Right," Harry said. He had really forgotten all about what his gaining majority meant in terms of his own finances, but he would see to it soon. "I will do that, but we have some more pressing matters at present," he began, looking at Ginny. She still wore that distracted look, though, so Harry decided to start with the part that concerned him first and allow her to share her own problems when she was ready.

"I'm here to help," Bill said encouragingly. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back here. Things have been a bit busy lately."

Harry dismissed the apology. "So, remember last year how the Order was guarding the Hall of Prophecy?" he asked, unsure how exactly to begin.

"Yeah," Bill said slowly. "Given what happened at the end of term, clearly we were guarding a prophecy about you and him. We were told it was destroyed, but I'm guessing you're about to tell me what it said," he said perceptively.

Harry nodded and gulped. It should have been easier to tell the story a second time, but telling Ginny had been different somehow. She was comforting in a way others weren't. As if sensing his thoughts, he felt her hand slip into his. The contact bolstered his confidence, and he continued to explain to Bill what the headmaster had explained to him.

When his words dried up, Ginny added, "We think it would be wise for him to begin some advanced training. Whether love will be what lets him win in the end, he needs as many resources as possible to survive."

"We," Harry cut in, looking at her intensely. "_We_ need training. You're too close to me and too high on his list to be left vulnerable. Since neither of us have the trace, there's no reason not to."

"Fine. Yes, _we_ need training," she conceded. Turning back to her brother, she said, "I was hoping you would be able to help with wards, curse breaking, and anything else you can think of. Maybe Tonks or Moody would be willing to help with dueling and other Auror skills. Andromeda Tonks helps the Order with potions and healing when Snape and Madam Pomfrey are unavailable, right?" Bill nodded in confirmation and she continued, "so maybe she would be willing to help. If not, we'll need someone for at least basic healing skills and I'd really prefer to find someone trustworthy that could teach us Occlumency, even if it's just the basics."

Bill's look was calculating as he thought it through. "We can do that, at least I can. I'll talk it over with the others too. Fleur is rather adept at Occlumency and has been making some progress on Legilimency." Before either Harry or Ginny could comment, he asked, "Is that what Longbottom Manor has been about? Practicing?"

"You could say that," Ginny said reluctantly. Harry had to squeeze her hand before she took a deep breath and continued. "Not dueling though, or anything advanced at all. I've been having trouble with my magic since Gringotts."

Bill asked for more information and she elaborated. Explaining in detail all the trouble she had experienced and the improvements she made over the last few days. "...It's gotten better, but I'm still not where I should be."

Bill took it all in quietly. He looked thoughtful and gave it a moment before responding. "Have you considered getting a new wand?"

Ginny groaned. "_Another _new wand? Seriously?"

"What do you mean another wand? How many have you had?" Harry asked, sidetracked from the original discussion. He hadn't heard of anything happening to hers.

"Well, this would only be my second _new_ wand," she admitted. "My first was passed down through the family. We didn't have extra money that year for a new one, since we had to buy all those Lockhart books. But then Ron and I both got new ones after my first year when Dad won that prize money," she explained. "Still, though, I can't think of anyone else who has been through three wands in less than five years."

"You need to remember that no one else you know has had three different sources of magic in a five year period either," Bill said seriously. "The wand chooses the user, Ginny, and it does that based on the person _and _the way they interact with their magic. I know it's hard, but you have to acknowledge that yours isn't the same as it was when you got that wand."

Ginny's face fell. She looked over her brother's shoulder as she responded quietly, "I know." She straightened when she looked at her brother, replacing the downcast expression with one of determination. "We'll go to Olivander's tomorrow then," she said. She looked at Harry, "And then Gringotts to take care of your accounts?"

"Absolutely," Harry agreed quickly. The problems with her magic had been weighing on her heavily, and he hated seeing the melancholia in her whenever it hit. It couldn't fix everything that had her down, but having her full magical strength back would certainly go a long way in making her feel more in control of the situation, something he had come to learn had a profound impact on her.

A loud _crack_ and the appearance of Kreacher interrupted them. The elf bowed lowly, but quickly, before straightening and explaining his presence.

"Kreacher is sorry to interrupt, but Mistress is needed down in the kitchen," Kreacher said. "The nasty professor that Kreacher has heard Miss Cissy speak of is there."

"Snape is here?" Harry burst out in distaste.

Kreacher looked at him, the familiar look of dislike present, but nodded and addressed him respectfully. "Yes, Master. He wants into the supply closet, but Kreacher is keeping him blocked, like Mistress asked him. Mistress's mother has asked Kreacher to fetch her."

"Thank you, Kreacher. I'll go take care of it," Ginny said, giving him an affection pat and she passed by on her way out the door. She didn't give Harry or Bill a chance to say or do anything before she was on her way down the stairs.

She stopped in the doorway, leaving Harry and Bill at the bottom of the steps, out of sight from anyone in the kitchen. Harry supposed it was a good thing she had stopped him from giving everything away. Snape was certain to use legilimency on him if he found him here when he was supposed to be at Privet Drive. Her posture was stiff and eyes hard as they trained on - he assumed - Snape. This was confirmed when he heard Snape's oily voice say.

"_There you are_," he sneered. "Apparently, I have you to blame for blocking Order access to necessary potion ingredients. Tell the elf to let me through."

Ginny's face was a perfect mask of innocence, even from Harry's view of just her profile. She raised a brow, "Oh? Who said it was up to me?"

"Do not play games with me, you little brat. I do not have time for this. And the minds of the Weasleys are not as well guarded as your own, _Miss Black_." Harry flinched as Snape dug at the fresh wound that was Ginny becoming a Black, knowing how much it still hurt her despite the brave face she adopted. "_Now let me through_. The headmaster is depending on what I need to gather here."

Ginny didn't react outwardly, but called, "Kreacher." The elf _cracked_ into existence before her. "Would you please gather whatever ingredients Professor Snape needs?"

"Yes, Mistress Ginevra, if that is what Mistress wants," the elf said with a low bow. He turned to Snape looking as oppositional as possible, but asked, "What is it that the greasy potions man needs?"

He heard Snape's hiss of a breath and could envision the angry look on the man's face, having seen it directed at himself enough over the years. It sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth, "Venom of the magical variety of Bothrops Asper."

There was a double crack that Harry assumed was Kreacher fetching the venom - why Snape needed a snake venom he had never heard of, particularly for the headmaster, was beyond him - and Kreacher saying, "There. You go now. Mistress does not want you here."

"Nor do I wish to be here, you foul-"

Ginny cut him off. "I'll thank you not to try to take things from my house without asking again, Professor. Or insult my elf."

"Noted," Snape replied coolly. Harry heard the fire flare in preparation for floo travel, and assumed from the muffled quality of Snape's voice that he had turned to go when he continued, "and I will be sure to inform the headmaster of Potter's insolence, as well as that of your conspirators."

Harry heard the swish of the flames, followed by absolute silence. Ginny let out a breath and her shoulders sagged. He moved forward, instinctively placing his hand on her back. Ginny jumped slightly at the contact, her eyes shooting to his in surprise. He knew she was upset though, and began rubbing small circles in the tight muscles there, and she relaxed, closing her eyes and leaning into the movement.

Bill cleared his throat behind them, bringing them both to attention. He simply gestured to the kitchen, "Shall we?"

Ginny's brother had made no comment on what had transpired between he and Ginny, nor did his expression hold any judgement when he spoke. As soon as Ginny had crossed the threshold into the kitchen, however, he shot Harry a look that indicated he had questions for him. Harry did his best to ignore it for the time being.

_It doesn't matter what he thinks_, Harry reassured himself. Ginny had quickly become the most important person in his life. She made him happy - made him feel like an actual living person instead of just a pawn being moved in a game he didn't understand - and knew that he brought her comfort, at the very least, if not genuine happiness. He would wouldn't be swayed into giving that up, even by Bill.

The kitchen remained silent even after they entered. Ron broke it with a sarcastic, "_That_ went well."

Hermione elbowed him and he grunted. Mrs. Weasley ignored the entire exchange. Worriedly she asked, "What in Merlin's name could he be brewing for the headmaster that requires that venom? I've never even heard of it!" She was looking directly at her husband.

Mr. Weasley shook his head looking as confused as the rest of them. "I've never heard of it either."

"I have," Bill said quietly. There was a nervous quality in his voice that Harry didn't like. "It's rare. The snake is generally only found in South America, and the magical variety only in one small village. There is only one potion I can think of that he would need it for - an antidote to a particularly dark curse used in ancient times. If the headmaster is in need of it… it can't be good," he explained with a grimace.

"But - Professor Snape didn't seem that upset… surely everything must be alright?" Hermione said, lacking her usual confidence. Her face was worried as she looked at Bill. "Right?"

Bill replied doubtfully. "It's possible he's just preparing for a dangerous mission. But… all of the curses that require that antidote cannot fully be contained. Whoever they befall upon may be able to stop the spreading, but it can't undo the damage at the initial site where the curse made contact."

Everyone let that sink in for a moment, before Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Regardless, there is nothing any of us can do about that. However, it seems the situation with Harry and Ginny is now, or will shortly be, in the open, at least where the headmaster is concerned. Someone should let Tonks know - she's on duty watching over Harry's relatives."

Harry felt a bit guilty that the Order was still wasting resources keeping an eye on Privet Drive, but as awful as the Dursleys had been, he still didn't want them at risk because the blood protection was now destroyed.

"I'll do it," Bill offered. He shot a look at Harry and Ginny as he said, "I have some things to talk to her about anyway."

"Thank you, Bill," Mr. Weasley said. "It's getting late and I have work in the morning. I appreciate not having to go out at this hour."

"Right!" Mrs. Weasley jumped in, looking at the clock. "We should all be getting to bed," she said with purpose, gesturing to all the children. "Let's head upstairs now."

Everyone began filing out, but Harry lagged behind. It occurred to him that maybe Bill could add some wards so that the Order didn't have to bother with his relatives anymore. When Ginny waited for him, he told her quietly, "I'll be up soon. I just wanted a word with Bill." She looked between them curiously, but acquiesced with a nod.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" Bill asked.

Harry ignored the assessing look on his face as he asked about the wards. He had a feeling that out of everyone, Bill was the most aware about his feelings for Ginny. This was confirmed by the way he didn't leave, even after agreeing to placing the strongest wards he could without tipping off the death eaters. Resigned, Harry waited for the "big brother speech".

Bill never gave it. Instead he asked calmly, "Is it real? Or is she just another duty for you?"

Harry maintained eye contact and said unequivocally, "It's real." He was certain of that now.

"Good," Bill said simply, taking his leave without another word.

Harry looked at the flames Bill had disappeared through in surprise. He had honestly expected more than that. Not that he was complaining, but as her brother, shouldn't Bill have threatened him? Ron had complained about Corner forever when he found out about him.

Then again, Bill seemed to have a deep respect for Ginny. He wouldn't try to control her life the way the other members of her family did. Harry assumed that's why Ginny was actually honest with Bill. Instead of settling for wondering about her, Harry set out to find her so he could spend his time in her company.

He found her exactly where he had expected to - sitting on Sirius's bed. His journal was open on her lap again, and she was tracing the page again, that quiet longing and tenderness clear in her movements. He paused to watch her, wondering what had touched her in his writing.

She spoke without looking up. "He actually wrote a song based on something I said to him." She looked up at him, a sheen in her eyes and an expression that was bittersweet. "He used to do that, back when they were all kids. Your father played quidditch, but Sirius played music to 'bewitch the witches'," she shook her head and laughed lightly. A fond smile spread across her face as she said, "He said it didn't hurt that playing guitar was such a Muggle thing that he couldn't help but want to do it, knowing it would piss his parents off even more." She shook her head fondly. A bit of awe radiated out of her as she continued, "but he hadn't written anything since before Azkaban, at least to my knowledge."

Harry took a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. There was the slightest hesitation before she leaned into the half-embrace. It was the second time tonight his touch had startled her in some way, something he had never noticed in their interactions before, and it gave him pause._ She had seemed distant as well_. He wasn't sure if it was simply what Snape had said, but something was clearly weighing on her.

"How do you do it?" He asked. He knew enough to know that if she wanted to share with him what was on her mind, then she would, but he still couldn't help wanting to better understand her. He pulled back slightly to look at her expression. "How are you so composed all day around everyone else when you feel this way too?"

Her nose wrinkled and her brows drew together as she considered the question. The expression didn't fade as she explained, "I guess I just compartmentalize, push it to the back of my mind by focusing intently on something else. Right now I have a long list of things to keep my mind busy. Today, it was mostly the training we're about to start- what would be most valuable for you to know and who best to provide the instruction. You know, that sort of thing." She shrugged.

"Speaking of…" he began, "Bill mentioned Fleur and Occlumency. Can you handle that? I know you don't like her, and I hated having someone I disliked in my head."

Ginny's snort prevented him from falling into the dismal thoughts that usually plagued him when he thought of Snape and Occlumency. "_Really_, Harry?" She asked amusedly. "As much as I dislike Phlegm, I don't think it's fair to compare her to Snape." She sobered and continued, "I guess it's not ideal, but it could be worse. I've got a rudimentary idea of the basics anyway and it's not as important for me to learn, so the focus will mostly be on you. Is that alright with you?"

Harry discarded most of what she said, having been stuck on the idea that she had any understanding of Occlumency at all. "Wait- what do you mean you have an idea of what to do? You've practiced Occlumency?" Then he remembered what Snape had said earlier in the kitchen. "Is that what Snape meant when he said your mind was protected?" He questioned intensely.

"Not exactly…" She said slowly, sounding apprehensive.

He recognized she was having trouble reading what his intensity meant, so he smiled and said teasingly, "Well you must know more than me. I'm pants at it. Couldn't ever seem to clear my mind properly."

She didn't laugh, but asked with interest, "Snape told you to clear your mind?"

"Yeah, but that's it," he said as casually as possible; there was no point in letting old frustration ruin his mood - or his alone time with her.

"Hm…there's more to it, but I understand what he was getting at," she replied, looking thoughtful. She met his eyes seriously as she continued, "You need to clear your mind of any clutter really - any stray thoughts can be latched onto and followed to deeper, more significant memories."

"Latched onto?" He asked, trying to fully understand the concept. Snape had never bothered to explain before, so he had never known what kinds of questions to ask.

"Well, the way we organize things in our minds, it's a series of interconnected webs that link thoughts." She sounded so studious that Harry had to fight off a smile. He knew she was smart, but he was just so used to seeing her bantering with her brothers that he was still unaccustomed to it. "There are a number of pathways we can follow to retrieve information, depending on what connections we made when remembering it."

The urge to smile vanished as he realized he would need to pay attention if he hoped to understand it all. He absolutely didn't want to ask her to repeat herself because he was thinking about how cute she sounded when explaining something complicated or how arousing she would look dressed like a muggle librarian...He shook himself and focused.

She continued without commenting on any change in his expression, "Imagine, for instance, that you ran into me in the hallway on your way to an Occlumency lesson with Snape, so I'm fresh in your mind." He nodded. "If you don't clear your mind and Snape latches onto that thought, he can find everything I'm connected with." Harry had to fight a grimace at the thought of how Snape would torture him if he had seen what he was thinking about Ginny just moments ago. "It will lead to memories of the Chamber and Tom Riddle, which will lead directly to memories of Voldemort, and then what we're doing to stop him, such as things related to the Order of the Phoenix, and so on and so forth."

"I don't think of the Chamber when I think of you, Gin," he said quickly. While he didn't want to tell her what he _did_ think, he most definitely did not want her believing that the Chamber was how she was framed within his mind.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. It may lead to thoughts of Ron and then of the Burrow, and further on to Peter Pettigrew and then Voldemort, etcetera." She waved her hand. "Of course, I'm using worst-case scenarios, because if you're under a Legillimency attack, it's not likely that they'll be searching for pleasant memories. They'll be looking for your secrets." She suddenly grinned wickedly, signaling to Harry that she was about to take the mickey. "And not the kind of secrets relating to the type of underwear you wear."

"Right," Harry said, fighting a blush at the thought of Ginny trying to get a peek at his underwear. He could think of much more pleasurable ways… that pleasant thought was interrupted by a realization. He pulled his arm back from around her and rubbed his face as he asked, "You didn't- uh- you used to help your mum with the wash, right? Um-"

"Don't worry," she said placatingly with a pat on his arm, "Mum always handled the boys' unmentionables." Harry sighed in relief, but found himself blushing furiously as she continued a moment later, "I refused to touch them before they were clean. I just folded them."

He groaned, remembering the underwear he had back then, before Sirius had seen the full contents of his wardrobe when unpacking his trunk and insisted on not only owl ordering him a full set of clothing, but also sending Remus out into Muggle London to buy him casual clothing as well. The memory made him a bit sad, as he had never wanted to wear the newer, nicer clothing back then, for fear of ruining the first decent set of clothing he'd had in memory with all the cleaning they were doing about the house, and then had outgrown most all of it over the school year. _I wonder if he had any idea how much that meant to me. _Before he could sink too far into regret, Ginny's amused laughter spread over him like sunlight, and he found himself chuckling with her instead.

He nudged her shoulder. "Alright," he said, getting back on topic. "I can understand that, but keeping a clear mind can't be all of it. No one can go around not thinking all the time, and I sincerely doubt Voldemort is going to give me a warning."

Her laughter died down as she focused. "Well, no, of course not. In conjunction with clearing it, you'll want everything 'put away' and organized, so to speak. That way you can lock away sections of thoughts and help block off the access routes. You know?"

"That makes sense. Easier to protect the important stuff then," he said. She nodded and smiled. "Is that all?" he asked. It didn't seem like it would have been that difficult for Snape to simply explain that to him.

"Oh, Merlin, no," she said quickly, shaking her head. "You're supposed to build a wall or a shield or something around your mind, but I've never done it. I don't _actually_ practice proper Occlumency." She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Bill says I just repress things well enough that it's hard to pick out the truth from the lies in my mind… everything has a hazy, dreamlike quality unless I'm actively focusing on it." She shrugged. "It's all tied in to my ability to compartmentalize and avoid feelings I don't want to confront."

Something in her shifted, it was slight, but Harry recognized there was something she was avoiding right now that was causing her to retreat. Hoping to pull her away from that thought, he asked, "So what did you say to Sirius that was so important he was motivated to write a song?"

She smiled slightly and shut the book that had been open in her lap. "It wasn't so much the words I said, as it was the reason for it. Though he did damn near quote me," she said with a laugh.

Harry gave her an unimpressed look. "That's all you have to say? You're really not going to tell me?" He asked, reaching for the book.

The fact that she was a talented Seeker as well was demonstrated by how quickly she pulled the book, stretching her as far as she could out of his reach. "Most people would let me slide with that, yes," she said laughingly.

Despite how extended her arm was, his was still longer and he wrapped his hand around it easily. He smiled at her but said, "I'm very familiar with your family, Gin, and no - none of them would let you slide on that weak attempt at redirection." He tried to pull the book from her hand, but she had a surprisingly strong grip. _Yeah, it's her grip that's the problem, not that you like how you're pressed against each other,_ he thought to himself. They were so close he could count all the freckles that dusted her nose or the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, were he so inclined. He continued to press her, "Don't make me resort to drastic measures."

She was unimpressed and maintained her hold. "As you just pointed out, you're familiar with my family. I doubt you can be more persuasive than Fred and George."

"Are you sure about that?" He asked. His plan was questionable really - his erection was currently hidden by his robes, but if she moved in a certain way, she'd be pressed up against it and there would be no hiding it. Still, he hoped she'd challenge him. She didn't disappoint.

"Do your worst, Potter."

He knew his smile must have been slightly feral as he responded, "Gladly."

His free hand around her back and to her side, pinning her against him, before he began tickling her. She squealed and moved away from the source, making her move closer to him and allowing ever better access. It was almost too quickly before she let go of the journal and was pushing against him while laughing.

"You win! You win!" She said breathlessly. She tried to look reprimanding, but was still smiling as she said, "I never took you for a dirty fighter, Harry."

He grinned in response. "I did warn you."

She nodded, conceding the point. "That you did." Her returning grin was full of mischief, "but now that I know, I won't go easy on you next time."

"Good to know," he replied casually. His heart was pounding with exhilaration though, and he looked forward to whatever methods she had in mind.

Turning back to the journal, he opened it and began searching. Honestly, he didn't really know where to look, but he assumed he'd recognize lyrics if he saw them. _Wow, he wrote a lot_, Harry thought as he turned page after page to no avail. He heard Ginny laugh softly beside him and looked up at her ruefully.

"Okay, so maybe this wasn't my best plan. Care to help?" He asked hopefully. "Please?"

She shook her head fondly, the scent of her hair hitting him in a concentrated wave, momentarily distracting him. There was a smile in her tone as she said, "Well, since you asked so nicely."

She gently took the journal from him and turned to the correct page before handing it back to him. It was dated only two days after they had returned to school. The entry before it mentioned the letter she had sent him the day before and what it had said. He didn't even look at the lyrics before the wave of emotion hit and he looked up at her, too touched to say anything.

The look in her eyes was understanding. She took his hand and said, "He was letting the guilt of his past control him. I couldn't stand seeing the way it was holding back his relationship with you. Both of you, but particularly you, Harry, deserved more than that."

Setting the book aside, he wrapped both his arms around her neck and pulled her into an embrace filled with as much emotion as he was capable of. She had fought for Sirius, for Harry's relationship with him, and for Harry himself, and that meant more to him than he could put into words. His face was buried in her hair when he finally formed the words, "Thank you."

Her arms tightened around him and her breath was warm on his neck as she responded, "You're welcome, Harry. I just wish I had done it sooner."


	17. Chapter 15

_"For what it's worth. I'm happy for you. You bring out the best in each other."_

Aside from when Ginny was intentionally focusing on something specific, Neville's words had been on repeat in her head. When Harry had left - his behavior having made it apparent that he was still feeling resentful toward Neville - Ginny had turned to apologize to their friend.

_"It's complicated," she had said with a shrug, as if that explanation wasn't completely lacking. _

_Neville laughed and waved a dismissive hand as he continued to lead her to his Gran's study. "It's alright, Ginny. I just never thought I'd see Harry look at me like that." _

_She hurried to explain, not wanting Neville to think badly of him. "He doesn't mean anything by it, Neville. He likes you. It's just… he's..." she trailed off, uncertain how to explain the jealousy without explaining the prophecy. _

_Neville brushed it off, "Jealous," he answered simply. She looked at him in surprise. "Really, it's fine. After Michael, I'm used to it." _

_Ginny nodded absently, thankful she wouldn't have to explain and that he underst-. "Wait!" She stopped him, staring with wide eyes. "What do you mean 'after Michael?' What does Michael have to do with this?" _

_He gave her a shrewd look. "Well, Michael was always a little jealous of our friendship. He never really trusted me, since we had gone to the ball together- always gave me this suspicious look. You really never noticed?" _

_"No," she replied faintly, the shock momentarily stealing her voice. "Are you telling me Harry is looking at you like that? Like, like…"_

_"Like he likes you and feels threatened by me?" He supplied. He shook his head incredulously. "Are you really asking me that? How could you _not_ know?"_

Since returning from Longbottom Manor, she had spent the entire evening carefully watching Harry. She had been certain that Neville was wrong, but the clues were all there, now that she opened her eyes and looked. It was surprising how much her state of willful ignorance had allowed her to miss.

He was always near her. He touched her often, but shied away from everyone else. She near constantly felt his eyes on her. When she looked at him, every smile he gave her reached his eyes. She's seen him laugh more in the last four days than she had in the entire time she had known him. He willingly talked to her about his fears, insecurities, and doubts - that was perhaps the most telling. There was no denying that he felt something for her that he didn't for anyone else in his life.

She just didn't want to accept it.

Tearing down the wall - allowing herself to open up to him and trust him - had made it quite obvious that her feelings for him had never actually gone away. They had been carefully sectioned off and hidden, even from herself, but they had never dissipated or diminished in any way.

It was frightening how quickly they had flared now. It was as if they had been smoldering coals when they were locked away, but the influx of fresh air as the wall was torn down and the fresh kindle her interactions with Harry were providing had caused them to light into a veritable inferno. If she believed that he returned those feelings and then he didn't, it just may destroy her.

And she was not the type of girl to allow a boy to destroy her. Not anymore.

Still, the thought that Harry may actually be interested in her persisted. As much as she fought it, warmth spread through her every time she thought of another positive sign. She was having trouble thinking of any signs that indicated he _didn't _like her at this point. Little observations swam through her mind one by one without permission, forcing themselves into her consciousness.

The memory of last night was particularly vivid, as evidenced by the flutter in her chest as it replayed in her mind. She had never seen Harry look or act like that ever. Like he was a real live teenage boy enjoying the silly aspects of life. They had been talking about Sirius even, but there had been no shadows in his eyes when he looked at her.

Sirius… what would he say? He had told her not to give up on Harry. She thought he meant their friendship, though now she wondered if he could have meant more. Had he already sealed the betrothal rite at that point?

When her preoccupation with these thoughts caused her to catch her hip on the handrail to the third floor staircase, she decided enough was enough and forced herself to focus.

She banished those thoughts and began compiling her list of tasks as she descended the stairs toward the kitchen in search of breakfast. Gringotts. Olivander's. Reaching out to Moody, Tonks, and Andromeda about training. Bill would handle Fleur. Getting in touch with Remus, since Harry had questions and the werewolf had yet to step foot back in Grimmauld Place since that first day. They also needed to have a discussion with Dumbledore soon, about a great many things. She wasn't very pleased with him right now, but she was slightly worried about what Snape had been doing last night and if the headmaster was alright or not.

The list gave her tangible goals and made her feel centered. She could handle checking tasks off her list. Purpose settled over her in place of her muddled feelings about Harry and her anxiety faded. _We have bigger things to worry about_, she reminded herself.

She did allow herself to be distracted as she walked down the stairs to the first floor, however. Instead of thinking about Harry, though, her distraction came in the form of the changes that had occurred in decoration of the area. She happily observed that all the prior Black house elves' heads had been removed from the wall and that she no longer had to cringe in expectation of hearing Walburga's screams if a floorboard on the stairs creaked when she misstepped. They weren't gone for good, of course - Kreacher having simply agreed to put them out of sight in the drawing room, since no one ever used it.

Raised voices caught her attention and had her hurrying down the last flight of stairs. In the kitchen she found Bill watching Ron argue with her mother while Hermione stood at his side looking slightly nervous. She quickly picked up that Ron and Hermione wanted to accompany them to Diagon Alley.

"Why do you want to come?" she interjected, preventing a red-faced Ron from undoubtedly saying something that would ruin any chance they had. Her mother fell silent as well. Though Ginny was grateful that she was allowed to speak without interruption, the apprehensive way her mother had been treating her was starting to get worrisome. _I'll have to talk to her about that_, she thought, adding another item to the list.

Hermione answered her quickly, casting an uncomfortable glance at Mrs. Weasley, "There were a few avenues I thought to explore regarding the magic behind the betrothal, but they're only vague ideas right now. I was hoping to get some new books, but I really need to look for myself."

It seemed like a good idea to Ginny. Whatever bond she and Harry shared was clearly stronger than had originally been anticipated. She looked to Bill, "Is it just you escorting us?"

"No. Tonks is off today and should be here any minute," he replied, shrugging. "I figured it couldn't hurt to be too careful, but the four of you shouldn't be a problem, given that you and Harry can defend yourselves if need be."

She turned to her mother next, "I think they should come with us," she said gently. She didn't want to make demands. It felt wrong for something like this. "You know that Tonks and Bill can handle it, and we'll all be careful." Her mother looked worried still, so she asked, "Would you like to join us? It's probably good for all of us to get out of here from time to time."

Her mother hesitated briefly, but then her face softened. "No. No, I'm fine. I have some things to take care of around here, but you should all go. Get out for a bit." Her mother smiled, but her eyes were sad.

Ginny's heart ached at the expression, so she walked over an embraced her mother tightly. Her mum loved them all so deeply; she had dedicated her entire life to raising her children with all of her heart. "Thank you, Mum. I know it's been hard, but you're doing the best you can. We know that," she whispered.

She felt her mother tremble a bit, but nod before pulling back and kissing her crown. "I love you, Ginny, all of you."

"We love you, Mum," she said smiling slightly. "Even if we don't always act like it."

Her mother laughed lightly, a sheen in her eyes, before releasing her completely and shooing her away. "Enough, now. You all need to get ready while I finish preparing breakfast. It's fine if you want to go, so long as Tonks agrees, but not until you've had a good meal."

Ron left first in a rush, as though afraid their mum would change her mind if he lingered too long. Hermione shook her head, quietly thank Ginny, and followed Ron up the stairs at a more sedate pace. Ginny started to follow but stopped to turn to Bill at the last minute.

"No bad news for me today, right?" she asked in jest, just a hint of actual apprehension in her voice.

Bill smiled gently in understanding, "Not today, Firefly. I'm just your escort for the day." She sighed in relief and smiled back. It fell when he said, "Now go get that boy of yours so we can get out of here."

"Stop it," she hissed, casting a glance at her mother, who was now humming to herself as she prepared breakfast on the other side of the kitchen, to make sure she hadn't heard. It was a fight to prevent her earlier thoughts from rising to the front of her mind again. "He's not _my_ anything," she said more levelly.

"I beg to differ," Bill said lightly. "As would the goblins," he added. On the surface, he only seemed to be teasing her, but there was an undercurrent to his comments that hinted at something else. She didn't like it.

With one more glance at her mother to be sure, she flipped him off and said, "I'll go and get _Harry_, since I'd really rather get this trip over with."

She spent her walk up the stairs determinedly ignoring thoughts of Harry and mentally preparing the conversation she intended to have with her mother. What had been done had been done, and there was no point in her being angry about it or her mother living in regret. That didn't stop the flutter in her chest or the wide smile that spread across her face when she heard Harry laughing through the door before she even opened it, however.

She found him sitting in his usual spot on his side of the bed, laughing with his back against the headboard and _Mischief Managed _open in his lap. Traces of laughter were still evident in the creased corners of his eyes and the upturn of his lips, though he had his lips pressed shut. It made her feel happy too, and she cheerfully asked, "May I ask what's so funny this time?"

A chuckle broke loose as he shook his head. "It doesn't even matter. I was just flipping through and some of this is so ridiculous that I can't help but wonder if Sirius was really that wild or if he was just exaggerating the retelling."

She laughed lightly as she took her own spot beside him. _With Sirius, there was no telling_. "I have no idea," she replied honestly.

"I'll have to ask Remus next time he's around," Harry continued, looking back at the book and flipping through. "He was present for most of the Hogwarts-era stories."

"That's a good idea," she replied encouraging. _If he ever shows up again,_ she added silently. Lupin's absence had been bothering her a great deal, mostly because she knew it bothered Harry. He seemed to be in a good mood this morning, however, so she decided not to worry too much on it. "Well, I'm sorry to ruin the fun, but it's about time to go. Mum wants to feed us all first," she said in fond exasperation.

"All?" he asked.

"Sorry, Sirius's honesty, or lack of, distracted me." She explained, "Ron and Hernione are going to be joining us, though they'll hopefully go to the bookshop while we're busy." She took his hand and began pulling him from bed. "So go get those robes from my brother before he disappears down to kitchen, or else you'll end up with no clothes and no food."

Harry groaned. "I hate dress robes."

"Me too," she agreed. "At least these are my own and actually pretty nice," she admitted with reluctant respect for Fleur's taste. "We really should stop at Madame Malkins and get you your own set. You'd probably be much more comfortable if you didn't have to wear Ron's."

Harry grumbled something noncommittal and slowed his pace. "Please don't make me go shopping. I went with Hermione once when Ron wasn't talking to me during the Tournament. She doesn't even like shopping and it still took me forever to find a cloak that she approved of. 'You're a triwizard champion. You can't give Rita Skeeter anymore ammunition by looking like a ruffian.' Fat load of good that did," he said darkly.

She stopped pulling and turned to face him. Placing both hands on his shoulders, she made sure he was looking her in the eye when she spoke. "Harry," she said seriously. "You are not allowed to sulk today and ruin all the fun. You are getting out of Grimmauld Place and going to Diagon Alley with Tonks, Bill, your two best friends, and the very lovely me," he smiled at that and she winked. "And you will smile and be happy while we find you some clothes that look and feel good," she paused. "Well, and me too, but I'm sure you and Ron can find something to do while Tonks and Hermione help me."

She thought his eyes darkened as they dropped down and appraised her body. There was nothing to see, as she was covered appropriately in her formal dress robes already, but he had seen her in all sorts of worn and tight clothing recently while she'd been practicing. A thrill shot through her and her hands tightened around his shoulders in surprise. She'd never felt that way from a _look_ before.

The action seemed to pull Harry from his daze. He shook his head and stepped back a bit. "Right," he said, his voice low. "Sounds like a plan. Lead the way."

She complied, in a daze herself. Something had her shooting a sideways glance at the mirror though, where she saw Harry's gaze drop to her bum. She almost paused misstep, but it would have given her away.

_He doesn't like you_, she told herself weakly. _Boys look at girls all the time_. _It doesn't _mean _anything._ The same unconvincing thought continued, _and you don't like him_. _Right?_

She shook herself mentally, trying to rid herself of the entire exchange. It wouldn't do her any favors being distracted. She focused her thoughts back to her check-list, trying to ignore anything Harry related with only limited success.

It seemed to be only a short time later that Bill was leading their way through the alley at a brisk pace. Harry was walking with Ron and Hermione slightly behind her eldest brother, the three of them deep in conversation about brooms several paces ahead of her and Tonks. Despite the years she spent longing to be part of their little group, Ginny was now comforted to see the familiar sight of the three of them together once more. Things had been so crazy lately that they hadn't spent much time as a trio. Aside from the fact that it gave her space from Harry to think clearly, it also gave her the opportunity to talk with Tonks alone.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you or my brother," she began, "but where the hell is Lupin? It's been over a week and Harry hasn't seen or heard from him at all."

"I really don't know," Tonks replied quietly. "We haven't spoken."

That wasn't what Ginny had been expecting after witnessing the way they were interacting the day they picked them up from King's Cross and how upset Tonks had been a week ago. Her friend really wasn't the type to let anyone push her away usually. "Not at all?"

"We had a fight," Tonks admitted, the tips of her hair turning black. "I've been giving him space," she said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, throwing an arm around the older girl's waist and squeezing quickly. When she pulled back, she continued apologetically, "I know this is bad timing, but I really need you to either get a message to him or tell me how to do it." Given the type of work her old professor did for the Order, Ginny had been afraid to send him an owl that may put him in danger.

Tonks looked away briefly weighing the options, before replying firmly. "I can do it."

"Good," Ginny said, happy to see the resolute expression on her friend's face. Tonks was strong and full of life, she shouldn't be afraid to fight for what she wanted. "Tell him to pull himself together. Harry needs him, and I'm sure he could benefit from talking to Harry as well."

"Harry seems to be doing alright," Tonks said, a sudden streak of mischief lighting her expression. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" she added with a raised brow.

Ginny brushed off her teasing, not wanting to allow herself to be distracted by those thoughts again. Remus was one of the items on her list, and she wanted to get answers for Harry. Her conflicting feelings made her respond more roughly than she intended. "Whether he is or isn't - and _why_ \- is irrelevant. No one can replace the kind of connection they both have to Sirius and his father."

Tonks sobered and nodded. "You're right. I'll do it as soon as we're done here." Her hair turned gray at the end as she added, "I am worried about Remus too."

"I know," Ginny said compassionately. "It will be good for both of them."

"Yeah…" Tonks replied distractedly. Ginny almost regretted forcing the issue, now that she saw how sad and worried Tonks really was Sometimes she forgot how alike they were, and that just because Tonks was acting carefree didn't mean it was true. She was about to apologize when Tonks shook her head and changed the subject.

"Bill told me what happened," Tonks said sympathetically. "So Dumbledore knows?"

"I would imagine so," Ginny replied, reflecting on her conversation with Snape the previous night. For a fleeting moment, she had thought she'd seen surprise and respect flash across his face, but it had quickly been replaced with contempt. "He must have used Legillimancy on someone, because he had already figured it out by the time I got down there."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said. Ginny hadn't realized she had fallen back from the boys to listen. "I think he picked it up from me," she admitted, biting her lip nervously.

Ginny smiled reassuringly at her friend. "It's fine. It's not like we could keep it a secret forever. We did intend to tell him eventually," she added with a shrug. "Actually, I expected him to find out much sooner than this."

"Dumbledore has been busy, apparently," Tonks interjected, beginning a quiet explanation as she kept a vigilant eye on the people they passed. Ginny did the same as she listened, looking for anyone who appeared to be paying them too much attention.

Apparently, Dumbledore hadn't been seen by any members of the Privet Drive guards since the end of term. They'd been owling their reports, which wasn't entirely unusual, but still made Tonks curious. After Bill set the new wards at Privet Drive last night, she left to do some digging about what Dumbledore could have been doing all this time. From what she could gather, he's been meeting with Ministry officials trying to create a plan to deal with the Death Eaters, expecting them to go on the offensive now that Voldemort was out in the open. Four days ago he had been called into a closed door, secret Wizengamot meeting that no one had been allowed in or out of. The governing body had agreed to oust Fudge immediately, but had spent the remaining three days in session trying to agree on his replacement, choosing Rufus Scrimgeour as interim Minister in the end.

Hermione interrupted, expressing her disapproval of the Wizengamot making such decisions without even informing the people. Tonks defended the decision, saying desperate times called for desperate measures, and they couldn't run the risk of the Death Eaters finding out and taking advantage of so many important people in one place. Ginny grew impatient with all of it.

She cut off Hermione's next question with one of her own, "What does this have to do with Dumbledore?"

"I heard that Dumbledore was particularly agitated by the fact that they were detained for so long and took off immediately after they were released. None of the usual sources saw or even heard what he was up to until you all saw Snape last night. From his little mission, it seems like he was up to something dangerous."

Their conversation ended abruptly as Harry was shoved unceremoniously into her by Bill. "Put on the cloak you two," he hissed.

Before she had time to process what was happening, Harry had thrown the cloak over them and gripped her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Under the cloak, the position felt especially intimate and was interrupting her ability to think clearly. When he moved them into the small space between Hermione and Tonks, she understood that he was trying to make them as small as possible. To any outsider, it would just look like there was a polite distance between the two women, but Ginny was only a hair away from both.

No sooner had they secured their position did Ginny see the reason why. Percy was following a rather important-looking man out of Gringotts. The man - who Ginny vaguely recognized as being a higher-up from the Auror office - radiated irritation until his gaze fell on their group and his eyes lit with opportunity. His wild mane of hair made the expression resemble that of a hungry lion catching sight of prey, as did his determined pace as he approached them.

Bill had kept the group walking forward toward the bank. When they met, he feigned surprise at seeing his brother. "Hey Perce," he said, ignoring the other man for the time and giving his younger brother a hug. "It's been a few days. What have you been up to?"

Percy returned his brother's hug stiffly, scanning the group over Bill's shoulder. "Hello, William. I've been engaged in Ministry business," he replied, gesturing to the other man. "Allow me to introduce the three of you to the new Minister of Magic," Percy said officiously. Ginny noticed the tension in his features that belied the tone - he was nervous, his eyes still darting in every direction, probably making sure she was nowhere in sight.

"Rufus Scrimgeour," the lion-haired man said formally, shaking their hands as he greeted them all.

"As nice as it was to meet you, sir," Bill said graciously, "I need to be getting to work," he lied. "Tonks, can you escort them for me?"

"No problem," she said brightly. "It'll give me more time to chat with Ron here," she said with a wink.

Scrimgeour looked displeased, but bid her brother farewell without issue. Bill said his goodbyes and left, leaving her and Harry behind. Ginny was fairly sure they were supposed to follow him, but neither made any attempt to. The alley was rather full at present - they were at risk of bumping into someone if they moved away from the bubble of space their group had created and drawing more attention to themselves.

Once Bill was out of sight, the minister turned to Tonks. "Good to see you, Auror Tonks. You are off-duty today, are you not? What brings you to the Alley with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"

At some point before they began conversing with the Minister, Tonks had turned her hair into its usual bubblegum pink, giving the impression that everything was normal. She smiled at the Minister's question, and gestured to Hermione and Ron. Brightly, she said,"I just ran into these two being escorted to Flourish and Blotts by Bill Weasley. I was just asking Ron here about his older brother. Charlie and I graduated Hogwarts together, and it's been quite some time since I've seen him." Ginny watched in awe as her friend's cheeks began to glow with the classic Weasley flush - something Ginny knew was the result of her impressive metamorphagi skills rather than embarrassment. In a clear attempt to redirect the man, she said, "Congratulations on your new position, sir. I'm certain you'll lead us in the right direction."

The difference between Scrimgeour and Fudge was readily apparent as he ignored the praise entirely and focused his attention on Ron. "Speaking of your family, Mr. Weasley, your brother and I were at The Burrow just this morning. It seems your family has not been staying there," the Minister said, fishing for information. He shot Percy a displeased look as he continued, "Seeing as you are here in London, as well as at least four other members of your family, it seems your brother was mistaken when he suggested that your mother may have taken you out of the country on holiday."

Percy was flushing as he looked at the ground. "I haven't been to the Burrow since the night before the last Wizengamot meeting. How was I to know that they wouldn't be there?" Warmth grew in Ginny's chest at his words. He hadn't prioritized his job over them - he'd known they weren't there before he agreed to take the Minister. He looked up at the Minister and continued a bit more stubbornly, "I only said it was a _possibility_, sir. If you knew my mother, I'm sure you'd agree."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. His resistance, little as it was, made her inexplicably happy. She hadn't seen him do anything but rapidly agree with authority figures since he was a child. Her brother looked and sounded more like a Weasley in the last few moments than he had in years.

Scrimgeour was giving Percy a calculating look. There was an edge to his gaze that gave Ginny the impression he was reevaluating her brother and wondering if he should be considered friend or foe. Hermione drew his attention.

"He's right, Minister Scrimgeour," she said, her voice ringing with false enthusiasm. "Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to visit her great Aunt, I believe. But Ron here," she said, inserting herself into the crook of his arm, looking nervous and unnatural, "has been staying with me. My parents wanted to spend some time with him and get to know him better. I'm their only daughter, you see, and they really only know him through my letters. Of course, they have met, but only in passing moments, and that's really not enough time to determine one's character, is it?" She finished with a breath, staring up into her brother's eyes and batting her lashes in a way that was completely unlike her. Ginny noticed the squeeze she gave to prompt Ron when all he did was stare down at her in surprise.

"Yeah," he said, jumping a little. "It's right scary, you know? It's all new and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be saying to _her_ sometimes. How am I supposed to talk to her dad? He probably wants to have me carted off to Azkaban."

Hermione giggled. It was still put-on, Ginny knew, but there was real amusement hidden in her exasperated reply. "He's a muggle, Ron. I doubt he even knows what Azkaban is."

Ginny hadn't realized she'd allowed herself to be sucked into their show - trying to determine what truths had been slipped in through the lies, really - until Ron's attempt to reply was cut off by Scrimgeour.

He was unamused as he interrupted, "As interesting as all this is, I must ask what of your friend Harry Potter?" Ginny felt Harry tense behind her and she squeezed the arm he had wrapped around her in assurance.

"What about him?" Ron asked, tightening his hold on Hermione and pulling her closer.

"Mr. Potter fought with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and managed to survive again. That is quite a feat. Some have suggested that he is 'The Chosen One'," he said, looking at them intently, but neither one of them had anything to tell, nor would they willingly give the man information on Harry even if they did. "I imagine most of our world is curious about what he is doing with his time away from school."

Hermione and Ron had been staring into each other's eyes from their intimate position, looking for all the world as if they were just smitten with each other to the point of distraction, but Ginny noticed they were silently communicating. Ron shrugged and responded, "Harry should be at his relatives, same as every year. We never hear from him until at least two weeks into the summer."

"Hopefully we'll be seeing him sooner this year, though. After everything that happened with T_he Prophet_, Professor Umbridge and then at the Ministry, he's had a rather difficult year and should be with people who love and understand him," Hermione said, sounding very earnest as she finally looked away from Ron and at Scrimgeour, "Don't you think, Minister?"

The Minister's jaw clenched, clearly recognizing that Hermione was quietly expressing her disapproval of not only the previous Minister's treatment of Harry, but also Scrimgeour's own interest in him. "Perhaps," he said in an unnaturally even tone. He looked them over again, that same calculating expression he had given Percy present on his face. "Very well, then. Let us go, Mr. Weasley. We spent far too much time with that goblin anyway and we have much to do. Enjoy your shopping." There was an irritated gait to his walk as he strode off down the Alley.

Percy cast them a hurried goodbye, hugging his brother very quickly and setting off at a quick pace to catch up to the Minister. Both men disappeared into the crowd quickly. Moody's voice yelling, "Constant Vigilance!" echoed in her mind; the fact that she could no longer see them didn't mean that they weren't still being watched, she knew.

Ginny placed an invisible hand on Tonks. The Auror looked directly at Ron and Hermione, but spoke quietly to Harry and Ginny. "You two keep the cloak on and get to the bank. We'll go to Flourish and Blotts in case Scrimgeour is still watching." More loudly, she said, "Come on, lovebirds. It's only going to get more crowded if we keep waiting."

Thankfully, Tonks was able to maneuver through the crowd in such a way that it appeared their natural path had taken their little group to just in front of Gringotts. It allowed Harry and Ginny to successfully enter the bank without drawing attention to themselves.

Ragnok wasn't able to meet with them regarding the Potter account that day. Apparently, he was the goblin Scrimgeour had been meeting with that morning and they had spent a great deal of time arguing about something. That was what Griphook told them, anyway.

The lower-level goblin was happy enough to schedule a future appointment and provide them with copies of all the forms they signed at their last meeting. Their findings were quite a surprise, though Ginny hadn't wanted to talk about it in the office Bill shared with the other curse breakers where they had been allowed to look over them. It wasn't until they had convinced Bill, who had been persuaded to consult on another curse breaker's assignment, that they could go to Ollivander's without waiting for Tonks to return that she finally said what had been nagging at her.

"How could you not have noticed that you signed for Bellatrix Lestrange's vault?" she asked Harry, incredulity in her tone.

Harry huffed and responded tersely, "I was worried about _you_. I didn't care what I was signing."

She tried to backtrack a bit, "I know that. I appreciate it, but… it's _Bellatrix_. After everything she's taken from us - from people we know - I would have thought that would have stuck out."

He stopped walking and looked down at her with guarded eyes. "Are you honestly telling me that if the situation was reversed, you would have been paying more attention to _paperwork_ than if I was okay?"

His question hit her with more impact than he probably intended. Countless instances of being nearly out of her mind with worry over him flashed through her mind in an instant - the rogue bludger, the Chamber, the dementors, the tournament… most recently when he ran after Bellatrix at the Ministry. The wave of memories left her feeling like every inch of her had been soaked with frigid water.

When she pulled herself out of her daze, Harry had resumed walking and was several places ahead of her. She hurried to catch up to him, placing a hand on his elbow and pulling him to a stop when she did. The contact served to do more than just force him to look at her - it also washed away the coldness of the memories. The knowledge that he was here and alright warmed her like nothing else could.

"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "You're right. I wouldn't have given a damn about any of that if you were suffering." She didn't look away, but held her breath while waiting for his response. She knew how moody Harry could be when he was hurt, and her surprise had made her insensitive with her comments.

Harry blew out a breath and nodded. Ginny unconsciously mimicked the action. He didn't say anything, but held her hand to his arm and resumed their walk. He didn't speak again until they came into view of Ollivander's.

"Why were you so adamant about about coming here alone?" he asked curiously, apparently completely over her earlier insensitivity.

She cringed. If she were being honest, her nerves had been mounting since they arrived at Gringotts and she withdrew some money from her vault by way of the goblin at the teller counter. It was probably why she had wanted to fixate on their acquisition of Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in the first place, as a means to avoid thinking about the wand shop.

Uncomfortably, she admitted, "It took me forever to find my current wand. It felt like I tried almost every wand in the store, but nothing fit. Ollivander even pulled Mum aside and talked to her. I eventually found one, but…" she trailed off.

"But?" Harry prodded gently.

"It was kind of embarrassing?" she said, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed now at the admission. It sounded more like a question than a statement, and she felt her cheeks heat.

Apparently not expecting that, he asked in surprise, "Embarrassing how?"

She sighed and avoided eye contact. They were almost to Ollivander's now, and hopefully their arrival would put an end to the conversation. She hadn't meant for the admission to open the door to that line of questioning. Her feelings of inadequacy plagued her enough without her consciously focusing on them.

_Harry won't judge you_, a reassuring voice in her mind said.

Despite her apprehension, the words came tumbling out as she elaborated, "It felt like none of the wands were choosing me because I didn't deserve it. Maybe because of what had happened in the Chamber, or because I wasn't powerful enough or something. Ron's wand set off all these sparks when he first touched it, but when I finally found my wand, it wasn't an impressive show like that. Even Ollivander looked displeased by the match."

She had spent enough time talking that the store was just before them, and she pulled away from Harry slightly, keeping hold of only his hand and dragging him along as she picked up the pace; she didn't want him to have the opportunity to respond. She'd rather just get it out of the way than spend time talking about it. _Why did she always admit things like that to him?_ She was usually better at keeping her mouth shut.

Mr. Ollivander was standing behind the counter expectantly when she entered. She paused in the doorway, but as she was towing Harry just behind her, she had to move toward the strange man. The door shut behind them, and her nerves rose as the feeling of being trapped hit her. _Stop being stupid_, she scolded herself.

She took a deep breath and put a polite smile on her face, greeting him with a, "Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I was hoping you would be willing to help me get a new wand today."

Mr. Ollivander ran a critical eye over her, his hands steepled before his mouth. Ginny could have sworn she felt the weight of his eyes as his gaze roamed. She felt Harry step closer and place his hand on her back. She couldn't bring herself to resent the fact that she felt comforted by his presence - there had always been something terribly creepy about Ollivander in her opinion, like he was seeing through you instead of looking at you. His next words confirmed her belief.

"It is quite fortunate to see you again, my dear, though I did not expect to meet you again as a lady of House Black." The man spread his hands out and shrugged. "It matters not, really. In truth, it may make the particular wand I've been holding for you even more agreeable."

Ginny was distracted from asking how he knew about her status as a Black by his last comment. "What do you mean 'holding for me'? Why would you do that?"

"Ah, yes. Well, we had so much difficulty finding your new wand, remember dear?" He didn't wait for her nod, but continued, "Your magic was not quite your own at the time, and I had already begun creating one that would have been just right for you, that would help you gain control over the lingering… invading magic." He sighed heavily, "Alas, your mother was not receptive to the idea. There would have been a wait for it, you see, and personalized wands are rather expensive. She insisted it was not necessary. But I knew… I _knew _this wand could only be meant for you. I believe it's been getting impatient waiting for your return."

Ginny's mind was awhirl as he turned around and walked into the back room to retrieve the wand he had apparently held on to for her. She had thought it was odd that she was getting a new wand, but here he had been _expecting_ her to return. She knew he claimed that the wand chose the user, but he spoke about it as if it were sentient.

Harry broke her from her reverie. She had forgotten he was touching her until she felt him rub her back a little. Quietly, as if not to disturb the silence of the shop, he said, "There's nothing wrong with having trouble finding a wand. I did too, you know. My wand -" He looked uncomfortable and dropped his gaze as he asked, "You've heard the story about it being brother wands with Voldemort's, right?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. She knew the connection between the two wands had likely saved Harry's life, but the fact that it reflected the connection between him and Tom must have been disconcerting for him, especially at eleven when he knew next to nothing about his history with the dark wizard or the prophecy that tied them together.

"It's strange," he said, echoing her thoughts, "but it felt like mine immediately. Even though it's connected to him, I wouldn't trade it for anything. It feels like an extension of me." His mouth lifted into a lopsided smile as he continued, "It sounds like this wand will be like that for you. I'm a little worried you may be better than me now, actually, if you were that talented before with a wand not suited to you."

She snorted and gave him a little shove in exasperation. "I'm sure," she said sarcastically. She smiled at him in gratitude and said softly, "Thank you."

Mr. Ollivander's return prevented further discussion, though Ginny felt better for the exchange. The box he carried was surprisingly dusty, as if it had been placed somewhere all these years and left untouched, by hand or by magic. Clearly he had fetched it by hand instead of summoning it; even now, the wand-maker handled it gingerly, the box balanced on his open palm as he held it out for her to take. _He's so odd_, Ginny couldn't help but think as she stepped forward and reached out.

His treatment of it affected her and she found herself emulating his behavior. Despite the fact that it was still boxed and she hadn't laid eyes on it - let alone held it yet - she could almost feel a hum go through her as she took possession of it. It was unlike anything she'd felt with either of her previous wands, even when actively casting with them. Her hand trembled foolishly as she lifted the lid.

The first thing she noticed was that it was unmistakably made of yew. As her previous two wands had both been made of the same, she was intimately familiar with its meaning. She distinctly remembered showing Bill her new wand when they arrived in Egypt and the horror she had felt when Percy had, in his usual pretentious manner, informed them that yew was associated with the power of life and death and then provided them with a long list of notorious wizards who had possessed yew wands. Bill had forever secured his place as her favorite brother by giving Percy a dressing down that rivaled her mother's worst and then explaining that yew favored powerful individuals and were often possessed by protectors.

The second thing she noticed was the length. It was shorter than she was used to. Probably even shorter than the nine and a quarter inch wand she had seen choose Ron the last time she had been here. It didn't bother her too much, honestly, but was rather interesting. She smiled as she remembered Fred once commenting that size was no indication of power, referencing her as an example.

Reassured by the memory, she confidently took it into her hand. The hum that had only been hinted at before was now spreading through her like a wave coming out of the wand, up her arm, and directly into her heart. Instead of the flash of sparks she had typically seen associated with a wand choosing, there was a glowing golden mist interspersed with glittering bits of red that surrounded her in what felt like an uplifting embrace.

When the mist settled, she looked at the wand again in surprise. It still felt warm in her hand, though the humming sensation was only noticeable now if she truly concentrated. Despite looking relatively similar to her other wands, the experience was unlike she had ever felt before.

The only thing indiscernible from a glance was the core. She had never known the core of her first wand either, it's original owner having been several generations back from someone on her mother's side of the family. Though she did know that her second wand, the one that had seemed to reluctantly choose her, had a core of unicorn hair, which was said to stabilize the users magic and help overcome blockages. She finally looked up at Ollivander in question.

"I have no doubt you recognize that it is made of yew, a wood you should be quite familiar with by now." She nodded, looking back down at the familiar wood type as he carried on, "It measures just a smidge over nine inches, and it's core, I believe, was gifted to me especially for you." Her eyes shot back to his in surprise. Her curiosity was so strong that she wasn't even anxious at how his disturbingly wide eyes stared unblinkingly into hers. "At the end of May in 1993," Ginny felt Harry stiffen in response as she sucked in a breath, the significance of the time not lost on either of them, "I received a feather from a particular phoenix, one who had only given two feathers before," he said, his eyes shifting to Harry.

"Fawkes donated another feather?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly. Still, it was better than what Ginny could manage - she couldn't find her voice at all.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," he replied. He turned his attention back to her then and continued, "I assume it was at this time that your magic became afflicted, and you became… acquainted with the creature in some manner."

Ginny nodded and had to swallow several times before she felt like she could speak. Her voice came out very faint when she finally forced out, "Yes."

Harry seemed to snap out of his daze at the sound. He stepped forward and gripped her free hand. There was a trembling to his grasp that made her wonder if he was seeking or offering comfort with the gesture.

In it a tight voice, he asked, "What does it mean?" His hand contracted around hers.

Mr. Ollivander looked at Harry in surprise. "It means you are all connected. I should think you would know that better than I."


	18. Chapter 16

Harry felt slightly unhinged.

He knew Ginny kept shooting him worried glances - she had been since Ollivander had slapped him in the face with the truth and Harry had rushed them through paying the man and out the door - but he ignored them. Instead he kept a firm grip on her and kept scanning the area for threats as they made their way back to the bank in search of Bill.

"Damn it, Harry. Will you just stop for a second," Ginny exclaimed, planting her feet firmly enough that Harry nearly toppled them both in his effort to push her along. "What is your deal? Why are you in such a hurry to get back to Gringotts?"

"Move, Ginny," he replied tensely. "We shouldn't be out here exposed. We should have waited for Tonks or Bill in the first place."

Ginny didn't share his paranoia. "We're under the cloak," she said in exasperation, lifting the fabric that covered them for emphasis. "And safely against the wall in a quiet part of the street. We have time for you to explain why you've suddenly gone mental."

Harry was still scanning the area. She was mostly right. They were relatively safe. Ollivander's words had shaken him deeply, however.

He had always assumed Fawkes gave the feathers used in his and Voldemort's wands at the same time, by coincidence and decades before the name Lord Voldemort had even been thought of. Now he wondered if his had been given after that Halloween night when he was an infant, but he didn't know. He didn't even trust what he thought he knew.

After everything that had been kept from him over the years, it wouldn't have surprised him to find out that there was another prophecy about Ginny and Voldemort that he had yet to be informed of. The idea made his skin itch with anxiety. They needed to be moving.

He quickly explained, "We're finding Bill and then we're going to talk to Dumbledore. _Now_," he said firmly, forcing her to begin walking in the direction of the bank once more.

She gave him a small shove, not enough to trip him up, but enough to express her displeasure. "You don't have to manhandle me," she whispered forcefully, since their walking had put them in the vicinity of other shoppers who may hear their conversation. "I happen to agree with you," she added, increasing their pace.

Bill was only slightly surprised to see them, saying he had already sent Tonks, along with Ron and Hermione, to find them. "You really should talk to Tonks first," he said disapprovingly.

As far as Harry was concerned, tt had taken far too long to find Bill and pry him away from whatever puzzle he was working on as it was. He already felt at his limit for delays and was moments away from unloading his frustration on Bill. He considered himself lucky that Ginny responded before he lashed out at her brother.

"Tell us where to go, Bill," she said resolutely, "or we'll find our own way."

Bill weighed her. She stood tensely at Harry's side, her chin sticking out stubbornly and her unblinking gaze never wavering.

"Fine. Give me a sec," he said, going back to his coworker for a word before leading them to a private floo in the office. "The headmaster's office and the infirmary are the only two fireplaces connected to the main grid without prior authorization. I'll take you to Dumbledore's office, but if he isn't there - and he's probably not, you know - we're coming straight back. Clear?"

"Yes," Ginny said, though her tone was saturated with annoyance.

Harry nodded his agreement, though he had no intention of returning without speaking to Dumbledore. Bill stared at him much longer than necessary, his look saying he was aware that Harry was not to be trusted at present.

Luckily no argument with Bill was necessary, as the headmaster was sitting at his desk looking pensive when they arrived. He smiled slightly when he saw who had entered his office unannounced.

"What a happy coincidence. Just the people I was thinking about," he said jovially. He waved slightly in greeting, but there was nothing welcoming about the sight of the black and withered hand he had raised. The darkened, damaged flesh was only emphasized by the contrast of a shiny gold ring with a cracked stone that adorned one of the fingers. They all failed to respond, staring at the gruesome appendage. Dumbledore took no offense, laughing and waving it dismissively. "Ah, worry not. Severus and I have the situation well in hand." He let out another laugh.

Not one of them joined in. They all continued to stare, unconvinced. Harry was suspicious of Dumbledore's light dismissal, and Ginny's hard look said she felt similarly. Bill looked concerned, though, and was the first to speak. "Er, are you sure, Professor Dumbledore? It looks like -".

"I am quite sure. Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore interrupted, finality in his tone. It only enhanced Harry's suspicion.

Awkwardly, Bill responded, "Right. Well - ".

He stopped short as a silver, indistinct canine form bounded into the room. To Harry's surprise, it spoke with Tonks' voice, "We haven't found Harry and Ginny," it said nervously. "Are they with you? Ravens said you stepped out, but that you'd be back."

Bill sighed. "I guess I should head back and fill her in. We don't need my patronus telling all of Diagon Alley where you've gone." He looked at the headmaster, "Is it alright that I leave them with you?"

Harry bristled at being treated like an incompetent child. Apparently, Ginny did too. "We're right here, Bill," she said waspishly.

Dumbledore interjected, "I assure you it is no trouble at all, Mr. Weasley. As I was planning to visit your sister and Harry in the next few days, it is rather advantageous that they have come to me, in fact," he said, smiling pleasantly.

Another patronus from Tonks appeared. "_Bill_," it said in warning, "you have three minutes before I go check your Mum's clock."

"I better go," he said, standing quickly. He gave Ginny and Harry one last parting glance. "I expect you to go straight back to Grimmauld Place, got it?" He waited for their nods before disappearing in a swirl of green flame.

"I didn't know a patronus could change," Ginny said sadly to Dumbledore.

"It can," Dumbledore replied in kind. "When an individual experiences a great emotional upheaval, such as Nymphadora has recently."

Grief momentarily overrode Harry's anxious temper at the evidence of how greatly the loss of Sirius was hurting them all, the ill-formed canine turning into Padfoot in his mind.

"It's a wolf, isn't it?" She asked, shattering the shaggy black dog of his imagination. "For Professor Lupin?"

"I believe it is, yes."

"A wolf?" Harry asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

"Yes. It would appear young Nymphadora has fallen in love with our own Remus Lupin, and love - as I believe I have told you - is the greatest and most terrible force in the universe," he said, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips.

The statement struck Harry, driving his curiosity away. He avoided the reason why those words felt like getting hit by a train and pushed aside all thoughts except for the reason behind their visit. His previous irritation easily flooded his system again.

Dumbledore must have recognized the shift in his thoughts. His face sobered, the tired expression making him more closely resemble the aged man he was. "I daresay you did not come here to discuss the patronus charm, however. So, what can I do for you today?"

"We just came from Ollivanders," he began, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He knew rationally that he wasn't really angry with the headmaster, but the memory of the last time he was in this office and the information he learned had been kept from him had phantom anger fueling his current rage. His feelings were poorly veiled as he asked, "Did you know Fawkes gave a feather after Ginny's first year?" He gave his headmaster a hard look. "Ollivander said it was meant for her, that we were all connected. _Did you know?_"

"As I informed all of you at the time of the incident, I knew young Ginevra had been possessed by a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, but there was no indication that the wraith of Lord Voldemort was aware of the incident at that time," Dumbledore replied.

Harry wasn't at all impressed with that answer. It wasn't even an answer to the question he had asked. "But you knew he'd find out, didn't you?" He pressed, acid in his tone. "And that once he did, she would become a target? You knew that he might come after her for it, didn't you?"

"It occurred to me that it was a possibility," he allowed, seemingly unperturbed by Harry's antagonism. "I believed, however, that Lucius Malfoy would be in no hurry to reveal his failure in that respect. Even once Voldemort did learn of the incident, he had much bigger plans to attend to. However," he said, halting the outburst Harry was about to unleash upon him with a raised hand, "I have placed every feasible protection possible upon the Weasley family home. The Weasleys are _all_ prime targets for the opposition, and I would not leave any of them vulnerable to an attack."

Ginny spoke calmly from beside him, "I've been thinking about that, Professor Dumbledore. Wouldn't it be best to put the Burrow under Fidelius instead?" There was a levelness to her that made Harry even more irritated. He didn't understand why she wasn't more upset about this

"I'm afraid the Fidelius will not be practical for the Burrow," he said gravely. Harry noticed her disappointment, though she remained outwardly composed. "It is a particularly tricky bit of magic that locks the location away in the minds of each individual who knows it. The number of people who know the location already…" he shook his head. "I'm afraid not even I have that kind of power, Miss Black. It's why the Potters had to leave their estate - they were very well socialized and the family had lived there for generations. The cottage in Godric's Hollow was unknown, making it easier to successfully hide."

Harry filed that away for later consideration. He hadn't even known there was a Potter Manor, let alone what led his parents to hide in Godric's Hollow, but he wasn't about to allow the headmaster to distract him. For now, he kept himself focused on Ginny.

"Couldn't you _try_?" Harry pressed, knowing she wouldn't have brought it up unless it was important to her.

"Even if I were to attempt," Dumbledore said sadly, "it would likely only result in blocking the exact location of the property. People like Peter Pettigrew would still know whereabouts to look, and anyone with advanced senses - including Pettigrew and the werewolf Fenrir Greyback - would catch your scent and find it. While they wouldn't be able to enter the property themselves, the Fidelius does not block from physical attacks. The existing wards I have placed will do so, but adding the Fidelius would create a magical overload that would cause them to collapse, leaving anyone residing there at risk."

Harry's fists clenched in frustration. He'd never liked the thought of Ginny in danger - he'd known this already - but the thought of her having a connection to, not simply an association with, Voldemort the way he did was making him mad with worry. It wasn't acceptable. He needed her to be as safe as possible. It was the only thing that really mattered in that moment.

Ginny broke into his thoughts, her hand wrapping around his. He loosened his angry grasp and allowed her to lace their fingers. The effect she had on him was immediate, the knots created by his worried mind untangling with every breath she took beside him.

"It's fine, Harry," she said soothingly, her brown eyes meeting his earnestly. "We'll stay at Grimmauld Place. It doesn't matter where we are, as long as the family is together and safe."

"Ah," the headmaster interrupted. "As you may have imagined, I was quite surprised when Professor Snape informed me that your family was staying at Headquarters and the developments that lead to it."

Harry looked at him coldly. "Some people actually took Ginny's safety seriously." He had thought he was over it already, but now that he truly realized how deep her connection to Voldemort was, all his negative feelings over the betrothal were completely obliterated. There was no price too high to make sure she was safe. Irrational as he was feeling, he'd marry her right now if it meant keeping her safe.

Ginny ran her thumb in circles on the back of his hand and drew his attention. She gave him a pointed look and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He copied her actions, recognizing her scent in the air as he inhaled through his nose deeply and exhaled through his mouth. It helped more than he would have expected. _You're acting insane_, he scolded himself. It was entirely too easy to funnel his worry over Ginny into anger at the headmaster. He gave her a slight smile to let her know he appreciated her efforts.

She smiled in return before turning to the headmaster, her expression more sedate. "Do you know anything about these types of rituals, sir? We haven't been able to find much, but… the connection seems a bit more extreme than I would have guessed."

The headmasters gaze was curious, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my dear. Can you explain a bit more?"

Ginny did, while Harry worked on controlling his emotions. He was surprised when she went into quite a bit more detail than she had with anyone else, going so far as the explain that after the ritual at Gringotts, she felt much more stable casting magic around Harry.

When she finished, Dumbledore took some time thinking it over before responding, "I cannot say for certain if this is due to the magic of the betrothal or some other circumstance. Though I have heard of such betrothal rites, I have had no reason to research them too closely myself."

"You may not know about the betrothal specifically," Harry said suspiciously, "but can you honestly tell me you know of no way to help us better understand this?"

The headmaster sighed. "No," he said in resignation. "You are correct. I do know of one way." He looked at Ginny, "If you will allow it, I can perform a spell that will better allow us to understand the connection between the two of you, but you may find it… invasive."

A stubborn look came over her face and she said strongly, "Do it. We need to know everything we can."

He pulled out his wand with his withered hand, pointed it at Ginny, and began a complicated series of wand movements silently. Harry sat still as stone as he watched a bright light form, originating in the area of Ginny's heart, before spreading out like a pool. Further observation was lost on him as the light shining out of the image caught him in it's rays and he was overwhelmed by everything _Ginny_. Every feeling she evoked, her flowery scent, her power, the dreams he'd been having of a future… somehow this light encompassed everything he knew about her and everything he had yet to learn.

A distant part of him was aware that as the headmaster continued to work his magic, more light sprouted upward, coalescing into a tree. There were colors within the light, but Harry couldn't focus on that, so caught up was he in enjoying the feel of her. "Gin," he whispered, not wanting to break the effect. "It's…"

"Me," she answered shortly. Her tone held none of his awe and it broke him from his reverie. When he looked at her, her jaw was locked and eyes narrowed as she stared at the light formation.

Before he could look more closely, Dumbledore spoke and drew his attention. "Not quite," he said patiently. "This is a mere representation of Miss Black's magic, which also allows us to examine her magical connections."

Dumbledore's interruption helped him focus. Ginny was still staring daggers at some part of the representation of herself on the opposite side of the formation that he couldn't see.

Her anger had him taking a better look at the figure before him for the first time. The pool was relatively large and looked like water with a pearlescent sheen of dark green. The roots of the tree grew out of it, though some extended past the edges of the pool and disappeared, leading to some unknown location. Of those, there were numerous, all infused with the greenish liquid, but a few were colored with a mixture of reds and green and looked withered. His eyes were drawn to a rather large one that appeared to be gold and healthy that was also anchored somewhere not within the pool below. He wanted to ask Dumbledore about it, but more importantly, he wanted to know what upset her.

Following the tree up, he could see the magical green spread throughout the limbs and had started coloring the leaves, but that red sheen was also present there. He couldn't find any reason for her to be upset. It looked like a normal tree, as far as he knew, except perhaps that it was a little lopsided, the greenery more dense on his side than on hers.

He scooted closer to her. "Gin?"

"_That_," she said, pulling him closer and pointing an angry finger, "is _not_ me."

What had been blocked from his view before was now in plain sight. Where the branches began growing from the tree, it looked like the trunk had split and grown into two, except half of it had been cut off. The trimmed section exposed the inner rings, their appearance damaged as though having been fed by something poisonous. Whatever remained of the liquid that once filled the destroyed section had long since disappeared, but the exposed rings were still stained an ugly color that looked like dried blood. The effect of it was still present, whatever it was having contaminated the surrounding areas so that anything touched by the stains grew no leaves.

"_That_," she said again, sounding less angry now and more shaken, "is Tom Riddle."

Cold washed through Harry and he turned sharply toward the headmaster for an explanation.

"Indeed, Miss Black," Dumbledore said quietly, "but I believe 'was' would be more appropriate to say. That is where he was growing out of your magic and also feeding you with his, but it is clear he is no longer. The destruction of the diary destroyed that part of him in you."

"Explain," Harry bit out. He knew now why she was suddenly the one who was upset, as he felt it too. The diary may have been destroyed, but her magic was not totally unscathed, judging by the damage they could still see.

"What you see here is a mere representation of magic," Dumbledore began immediately. "Magic has no true form, but this particular model, if you will allow the term, displays its essence in such a way that we can understand it. The pool," he said gesturing to the water-like liquid with the green pearlescent sheen, "is indicative of the family magic from which a child's own magical core, what is depicted by the tree, grows. The colors are irrelevant, aside from what they mean to the individual." He gave Ginny a sympathetic look as he continued, "Your pool only contains this green, as the ritual you performed replaced your previous family magic with that of the Black family. I imagine it is green simply because you associate that color with the family."

Ginny nodded unhappily and Harry gave her hand a squeeze to remind her that she wasn't alone. She tightened her grip in return.

Dumbledore politely ignored the exchange, "Under normal circumstances, there would be a swirl of colors in the pool. If you look at the topmost leaves, you can still see hints of red and orange that have yet to be completely lost."

Ginny looked up briefly, but quickly looked back down to the pool. "You said it shows magical connections… So these roots here," she said, gesturing to the reddish roots that stood out to Harry on his first glance because of their unhealthy appearance, "they're my connection to my brothers, aren't they?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "As your brothers share only a small portion of the Black family magic, their magic cannot thrive in yours as it once did, and therefore have been greatly weakened."

"I see," Ginny replied stoically. Her face was a mask as she stared at the withered roots. She was far too calm for Harry to believe genuine. There wasn't much he could do, except keep the conversation moving.

"What is the gold one here?" he asked, pointing to a particularly healthy looking root. It was connected to her tree from an outside source, but the green tinted magic that belonged to her flowed outward through it, away from her own tree toward wherever it originated. As he looked more closely, he now recognized that there were smaller roots coming from her, these gold as well, that grew off and out of the pool in the same direction that were receiving magic tinted with a deep crimson color. There were half a dozen or so golden roots that were similar in size to the ones that represented her brothers of this variety, but also innumerable smaller ones that were both green and gold and appeared to be new. Though smaller in size, they looked as healthy as the larger one he had first noticed. Some had green magic, others red, and the newest ones had a beautiful combination of the two. Something about the look of them felt comfortable or familiar maybe. "Or those smaller ones there? Why are they different?"

"It is indicative of a life debt, although not of the typical variety, which would be represented by branches, such as the debt Peter Pettrigrew owes you," Dumbledore explained. He continued solemnly, "No, this is much stronger than that. The type of connection here is born when a witch or wizard knowingly risks their life for and as a result is actively dying in the pursuit of preserving the life of another."

Harry looked at the golden root again, the feeling of familiarity it gave him suddenly making sense. It was _him_. A sideways look at Ginny revealed she was staring at the golden section as well. The anger had been replaced with a wide-eyed look that could have meant anything from awe to terror.

Seemingly oblivious to the realization, Dumbledore continued, "The root grows out of the witch or wizard toward the one they are trying to save. If they are successful, the life debt that occurs feeds the magic of the rescued individual back to their savior in repayment." Thus far, Dumbledore had retained an aura of academia as he explained, but now the look in his eyes shifted to interest and curiosity. "As you have certainly guessed, this large root here is clearly connected to you, Harry, and could only be the result of what occurred in the Chamber of Secrets, when you were both so very near death." Dumbledore paused and turned his inquisitive gaze to Ginny, "What is perplexing, however, is these smaller roots that are very clearly connected to you Miss Black, extended _to _him, receiving his magic in repayment."

Ginny didn't respond, her previous mask shuttering into place as she looked down at the floor, but something Sirius had said to him in his final letter suddenly clicked.

"Sirius said..." he started, his voice thick at the implication that she had almost died for him, numerous times, and he'd never even known it. Her gaze snapped to his, eyes narrowed, and he had to swallow nervously before he could continue, "He told me that I had no idea how strong you were. That the basilisk didn't fail to kill me by accident. That I owed my survival to you and how much you cared about me."

There was a long moment of silence before she decided to answer. "Later…" she said quietly, looking back at the floor, "much later, after it had all been long over… memories came back to me. I remembered some small part of me waking up whenever he wanted to go after you and fighting back against him as best I could." She paused as a shiver ran through her. "Those were the times I woke hours after passing out, only to find there had been another attack, and that I had no memory of what I was doing at the time." She looked up at them beseeching, "I know that should have been a warning, that I should have known, but I convinced myself it was just the shock."

"There is no reason to feel ashamed, Miss Black," Dumbledore said compassionately. "Tom Riddle was a talented and brilliant young man. He would not have overlooked the possibility that the person whom his diary would eventually use may become suspicious, and likely made sure that you were unable to tell others." He smiled encouragingly at her, "The fact that you could fight him at all is quite impressive. What we see here is evidence that you cared deeply for Mr. Potter, and that you knew the risks you were taking, but chose to do so anyway. It is something to be admired, my dear girl."

Ginny looked away. Harry pulled on their intertwined hands and said softly, "Gin, look at me, please." After a moment, and another tug, she did. The guilt was written all over her face. He met her sad brown eyes strongly. "Thank you," he said fervently.

She stared back, her gaze searching. He knew there would be nothing but sincerity for her to find, as Harry felt nothing less than fierce gratitude and tenderness toward her at the new discovery. She blew out a breath, nodded, and then straightened her shoulders. She looked back to the headmaster. "What about those smaller ones?" she asked, sounding much more composed. "The magic there appears to be evenly spread."

Harry barely had time to see what she meant - the fledgling roots did appear filled with magic that was both hers and his, the crimson and green flowing fluidly through one another - before the image flickered out of existence. He looked quickly at Dumbledore in question.

"I'm sorry," he said tiredly. "It is a complex bit of magic and, though I am fine, I'm still feeling rather tired from my ordeal," his tired voice and sagging shoulders making him look older than ever and more than exhausted. "Getting back to your question, Miss Black, I believe those new ties represent the bonding of your betrothal. By the look of it, I gather that the Black family magic initiated the growth, and the bonding has allowed the two of you to share magic equally across the connection."

Harry wished the image was still present, so that he could look at them more closely. They had been fresh, but so healthy and even beautiful. He knew the colors were irrelevant really, but they had reminded him of Christmas, of what it was supposed to be anyway. Looking at the combination made him think of home, family, and comfort. It was pleasantly surprising, like receiving the perfect gift that you hadn't realized you wanted.

The prospect of their connection had been so disconcerting when Hermione had first explained it, but actually seeing it like that left him feeling nothing but awe and longing. Of everything he had seen in the projection, those roots that contained them both had undoubtedly been his favorite part. It was no wonder to him now that he knew what they meant.

"I'm afraid that's all I can tell you," Dumbledore said. "Until today, I did not know the extent of the magical connection you shared after the events of that year, but it appears as though you were quite well connected before the bond created by your recent betrothal. Perhaps that has made the connection stronger."

Harry sat back in his chair, the tension finally draining from him, and tightened his grip on Ginny's hand. He felt much better now than when he had arrived, satisfied with the information Dumbledore had given them. Ginny did not have an active connection to the Tom Riddle of the past or Voldemort currently and their connection was strong and healthy. There was little more he could ask for at this point in time.

Ginny didn't relax, however. He could tell she was thinking intently about something. Suspicion was there in the tightness around her eyes. When she didn't say anything about it, however, Harry thought it best not to ask at the moment. They would have plenty of time to talk later.

"You said you were coming to visit us in a few days, sir?" she asked, sounding only politely interested, but Harry knew her better than that.

"I did," he answered promptly. "My original intent was to fetch Mr. Potter from his relatives in two days time, once the wards had a chance to be fully charged," he gave Harry a pointed look that the younger boy ignored, "and get his assistance persuading a retired colleague of mine to return to teaching this year. However, since Professor Snape informed me of your new circumstances, I had planned to visit tomorrow to discuss the situation and ask for the assistance."

"Why do you need Harry's help?" she asked with narrowed eyes, no longer bothering to hide her suspicion.

Dumbledore eyed her carefully. The two appeared to have some sort of silent conversation, for he sighed in resignation after a moment before responding. "The man, Horace Slughorn, has resisted all my attempts to tempt him out of hiding and back to Hogwarts."

"Slughorn?" Ginny interrupted. "He was the potions professor when my parents were at school, wasn't he?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Ah, yes. Horace Slughorn did catch your parents in several compromising positions. I regret it was I who unthinkingly shared that fact with your twin brothers. Your mother was not quiet about her displeasure over my slip. I imagine she was rather embarrassed at her sons learning of such an indiscretion, but I digress. Yes, he was indeed the potions professor, and head of Slytherin House, for many years."

Ginny didn't smile, and though Harry was curious what story Dumbledore had shared with the twins that would upset Mrs. Weasley, he was more-so struck by the fact that they were seeking out a _potions_ professor, when he assumed they were trying to fill the always difficult Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

"What about Snape?" he blurted.

"_Professor_ Snape will be taking the Defense position this year." Before Harry could begin his angry outburst, the older man explained, "The Defense position is rather hard to fill at present, with our best and brightest otherwise occupied with the war effort. Furthermore, while Rufus Scrimgeour is not the paranoid man that Fudge was, he still will not hesitate to use the previous Minister's legislation to place his own people in open staff positions if he thinks it will give the appearance of Ministry competence. This could pose a potential problem."

"Why Slughorn though? There must be some reason you're so fixated on him that you're willing to track him down and use Harry to 'persuade' him," Ginny said sourly.

The headmaster paused only briefly before replying, "I believe he knows something that could be of value to both sides of the war. As does he, evidenced by the way he has spent the last several months on the run. Even though Hogwarts could offer him safety, he does not wish to make his allegiances so well known. Never-the-less, Horace has always made a habit of connecting with his most interesting and promising students, those who could prove to be valuable persons to know in adulthood, and I believe access to Harry may be too strong a lure for him to resist."

Ginny's lips thinned in annoyance, a feeling Harry shared. He'd never wanted the attention his name brought. Instead, he asked, "What does he know that is so valuable?"

Dumbledore waved his injured hand in dismissal, the stone of the ring catching the light in such a way that it drew Harry's attention. "Nothing to be concerned about, Harry," he said placatingly. "We shall have time for that later. I was hoping we would be able to start some, shall we say, private lessons this year once term begins. Perhaps once a week, so we don't interfere with your studies."

Harry perked up in his chair. Private lessons with Dumbledore sounded brilliant. He and Ginny would be training in the meantime, but he needed all the help he could get for when the time came to face Voldemort. If anyone could teach him what he needed to know, it would be Dumbledore.

"No." Ginny suddenly said fiercely.

Harry blinked.

The Headmaster looked at her steadily, "Excuse me, Miss Black. What do you mean by, 'No'?"

"I mean no, that's not acceptable," she continued in the same tone. "You may like to hold things close to you, but that's not going to work for us. We need to know everything you know-".

"Gin," Harry interjected weakly. He understood her frustration. Hadn't he himself arrived here in a fit of temper over the information he thought Dumbledore was withholding? But Dumbledore had been forthcoming today, and he trusted that the older man had his reasons this time, and furthermore that they were well-founded.

But Ginny wasn't having it. She cut him off, giving him a fierce look, her brown eyes blazing. "This is my life now too, Harry. _My_ fate. _My_ future. You said it - you _saw_ it - we're in this together and I will not allow us to be caught unaware."

Harry barely hesitated before nodding his agreement. She was right; it wasn't only about him anymore. It was no longer selfless to bend to the will of others for their comfort; to do so now would incredibly selfish on his part, because it affected her too. Ginny's feelings and life, tied as they were to his now, had become paramount.

She turned to Dumbledore, "You may be the greatest wizard alive, but no one is infallible. Even _you _miss things, important things. I'm not going to be left floundering if something happens to you just because you wanted to be selective in what you shared and when. Harry needs to know what you know _now._ Not when it's suddenly convenient for you." She gave him a pointed look, and Harry knew what she was not saying. Dumbledore knew Voldemort's true name was Tom Riddle, a fact that could have prevented the debacle of her first year entirely if it had been public knowledge. Just recently, he had known what the prophecy was about and Sirius had died because Harry hadn't.

"Miss Black, I assure you that we have time. I have no intention of dying before I pass along the information necessary for completing this task," he said lightly.

She eyed him dispassionately, clearly not amused. "If you had asked me a year ago who I thought would be dead in the coming months, Sirius Black is the absolute last person I would have put on the list, yet here we are," she said bluntly.

"Sirius, bless his soul, was a brave man, but also impetuous," Dumbledore replied patiently. "He knew he should not have left-".

"All due respect, Headmaster, _sir_, but two out of the four years I've spent at Hogwarts, you were 'forced out' of and left the castle when you knew we needed you here."

The headmaster's face sagged. He truly looked his age with the weight of his prior mistakes placed upon him so plainly. He looked at Harry and asked, "And what are your thoughts on the matter, Harry? Do you agree with Miss Black's concerns?"

"Yes," Harry replied steadily, meeting Dumbledore's gaze.

As far as he knew, the headmaster had never used anything more than passive legilimency on him, but today he knew from the intensity of the man's stare that his thoughts were being probed for his true feelings on the matter. He remembered Ginny's words about clearing his mind, how surface thoughts could be trailed back to deeper ones. As if in confirmation, he felt his thoughts about that conversation being nudged toward Ginny herself. Instead of fighting back like he would have been inclined to do if it were anyone else, Harry focused on aiding the force by purposefully directing his attention toward thoughts of her. He was committed to their partnership moving forward and didn't want there to be any question about it. Dumbledore needed to know that, aside from defeating Voldemort, she was his priority and he had no intention of leaving her behind.

When Dumbledore finally blinked, he looked exhausted and slightly dismayed, but also resigned. In fact, Harry thought he could feel some of the man's resignation lingering in his own mind as a ghost of his presence there, but he didn't have time to consider it in depth. Dumbledore offered Harry a short nod, just a slight movement to indicate his understanding and willingness to agree to Harry's terms.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "What exactly would you like to know, Miss Black?"

"For starters, I'd like to know how you came to be in possession of Salazar Slytherin's ring, a ring Tom Riddle wore on his own hand fifty years ago, and just what he did to it that your hand now looks like that."

Harry stared at her slack-jawed before turning to Dumbledore. Was he actually in possession of something of Voldemort's? If so, why on Earth would he put it on knowing what kind of tricks the evil bastard was capable of?

Dumbledore looked momentarily surprised before smoothing his expression. With a suspicious degree of calm, he replied, "Unfortunately, that is a tale that will have to wait for another day." Harry scowled at the man in displeasure. "It is not that I do not wish to share the information, but rather that the answer is long and complicated, and I am overdue for a meeting with Professor Snape as it is," he said in explanation. He pulled his wand once more and sent his Phoenix patronus off without a message, so far as Harry could tell.

As if he'd been outside the door awaiting the summons, Snape walked into the room at that moment carrying a steaming goblet filled with golden liquid in one hand and a bowl of something disturbingly slimy looking in the other. His expression turned sour as his eyes landed on Harry and Ginny, though he said nothing.

He tipped his head in respect to the headmaster before asking snidely, "I know how much you enjoy problematic students, Headmaster, but do you think it wise for them to be present for this?"

Dumbledore gave them an apologetic look, "As enlightening as our conversation today has been, I must bid you farewell for now. What is about to occur is unpleasant and will leave me quite exhausted. Perhaps we can convene again tomorrow."

"Alright," Harry agreed. Irritated as he was at the interruption, he did believe the older man was tired. Plus, he wasn't inclined to hang around anywhere Snape was as a general rule.

Ginny openly appraised Dumbledore, making no attempt to hide her displeasure. "Will you be coming to us, or should we meet you here?" she clarified.

"I shall meet you at headquarters. It has been far too long since I visited, it seems," he replied, offering a parting smile that neither teenager returned.


	19. Chapter 17

**A/N: I've been a bit remiss when it comes to these. I forget I'm supposed to do it before uploading. I wanted to take the opportunity to thank all of you for reading and following along with me. I really appreciate it and am glad you're enjoying it too! **

**As always, endless thanks to The Ginny Lover's discord server for their continuous support of all creative endeavors, and a special thank you to iKingBearII and several others (whose names I did not ask permission to use yet) who have been reading the in-progress stuff and assuring me it's not shit. See you next Friday with a chapter I think you'll all be relieved to see. **

"I don't like it," Ginny said again, continuing to pace furiously around their room. "He's still hiding something - I know he is."

She had been in this agitated state since they arrived home after meeting with Dumbledore. Harry sat on the bed, watching her, and patiently voicing his agreement at regular intervals.

"He absolutely didn't want to tell us something," she said firmly, looking at Harry.

He finally stood and approached her. She ignored him and kept at her pacing until he took her shoulders and made her look at him. "Are you alright?" he asked directly. "He seemed like he was honestly tired. Is this really about him. Not your wand? Or what we saw?"

She pulled back. "Of course it's about him," she said shortly. She didn't care about the wand. Truly, it wasn't that surprising. She was more concerned about the ring, and - despite knowing the ring should have been her biggest concern - even more concerned yet about Dumbledore's treatment of Harry. "He _was_ tired - I'll admit that - but I don't buy for a second that the charm happened to fail when we were beginning to discuss you. He knows something he didn't want to share," she insisted.

"Gin," he said, grabbing her again and turning her body to face him, "it's fine. I'm sure he'll get to it. He probably didn't mean - "

"Yes, he did," she said forcefully. "It's absolute bullshit the games he plays, but he wants something from you. They all do. Dumbledore, Minister Scrimgeour, this Slughorn... they all want to use you for something or other, and I don't like it. You're not some tool or prize. You're just you, just Harry," she said passionately.

She was gripped in a breathtaking embrace before she could recognize what was happening. One minute she was ranting, and the next all she knew was Harry. Her brain didn't even consider it before she wrapped herself around him just as fiercely.

His face had been buried in her hair, so she felt it when he pulled back and angled herself to look up at him. The intensity she had seen in his eyes earlier was there again and she felt alive with it. A humming sensation everywhere his body was in contact with hers made her heart beat wildly in her chest. Even the atmosphere grew heavy, as if the very room they were in was waiting in anticipation. She had the insane thought that if she could force herself to look away from his eyes, she'd be able to see a physical manifestation of it in the air.

A tentative knock on the door sounded, breaking the tension. Harry stepped back, his fingers lingering in her hair and twisting at the end. She couldn't stop the way her eyes closed and her body leaned forward, prolonging in the contact. There was something wistful in the way he twirled the end fully around his finger before releasing it, and a small hum escaped her. He cleared his throat and she opened her eyes as another knock sounded, this time more firm, and Ron's voice carried through the door.

"What're you knocking for Hermione?"

"Knocking is considered _polite_, Ron," she rebuked.

Ron's reply was lost as Ginny laughed quietly, envisioning the look of disapproval on her friend's face. It quickly faded and morphed into a sigh as she realized what needed to happen now.

"I need to have a talk with Mum, but I think you should tell them about everything."

Harry looked apprehensive. "You mean everything that we found out today?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I also think it's time to tell them about the prophecy. Don't you?"

His gaze flee to the door nervously and he swallowed thickly before responding, "Yeah. I guess I should." He looked back to her, "You're not going to stay and tell them with me?"

As much as it pained her to deny his unspoken request, she shook her head. "No. I'd really like to talk to my mum alone. Besides, I feel like I've been monopolizing you lately," she said, thinking of the three friends huddled together talking that morning in Diagon Alley. "The three of you have always been a team. You should have this conversation in private."

He took her hand. "We're a team," he said, squeezing in emphasis.

She smiled warmly at him and squeezed back. "We are, but still. Give them some time to think about it with less of an audience," she said, pulling away. "Plus, I'd rather not be present when Ron finds out you told me first," she added playfully.

He sighed in exaggeration, "Fine, leave me all alone with the hard stuff."

She laughed and kissed his cheek before embracing him. "You'll be fine, you little cry-baby." Another knock sounded and Harry tensed. She pulled back enough to look at his face and said more seriously, "It will be alright, Harry. You'll see."

The air between them thickened as they looked at each other. The slight tingle she usually felt whenever they touched ignited into something much stronger, her entire body lighting with it. It was only the sound of her brother's angry voice questioning what they were doing that made her pull away and head toward the door.

She opened it and was almost hit by Ron's fist as he went to hammer at the door once more. She ducked just in time and gave him a shove in reproach. "Fine way to say 'thank you' for inviting you in, Ron. See if I open the door at all next time," she said sarcastically.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Took you long enough. What were doing in here anyway?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and ignored the swooping sensation in her stomach at the thought of all the things they could have been doing. She focused on the conversation she was about to have as she said, "Talking. Just like you're about to be doing."

Ron pushed past her, walking into the room and taking a seat on the chest that now served as a chair for the desk. Hermione was still in the doorway, looking at her curiously.

Ginny tried to impress upon her how important this was with a significant gaze as she said, "I'll catch up with you later, okay? I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about."

Hermione seemed to understand. She didn't ask any questions, but nodded seriously. "You should stay for a minute, Percy gave Ron something you need to know about," she said, before taking a seat beside Ron.

Ginny paused and turned to examine her brother. He was bouncing one leg and twisting a piece of parchment between his hands. Exasperated with all the dramatics, she walked over a stuck out her hand expectantly. He looked at Harry before handing it to her. Document in hand, Ginny turned and took her spot next to Harry on the bed. She opened it curiously and found that she had to squint to at the already fading text to read it. The page was actually lighter than it should have been too, she noticed, and recognized it as a sign that it was a hastily made copy.

She looked at Hermione and Ron as she handed it to Harry to allow him a closer look. "What am I looking at exactly?"

"Percy slipped that in my pocket when he hugged me," Ron replied. "It's hard to see now, but it's a requisition order from Scrimgeour for the Black family account."

Harry was still squinting at the fading lines when she asked, "Why would he be after that?"

Ron and Hermione shared a look. Her brother responded, "Tonks said Scrimgeour was Head of the Auror office before becoming Minister. She thinks he was just investigating all Fudge's activities and this was part of it."

"We know Fudge tried to help Mrs. Malfoy get control of the Black account," Hermione continued. "We think Fudge was trying to find out what happened to it when he was removed from office, and Scrimgeour was just following his paper trails. He probably filled out a lot of these forms and Percy only had time to copy the one that mattered to us."

"Does it really matter?" Harry asked, seemingly unconcerned.

Hermione looked taken aback. "Well… there's no way he won't find out about the betrothal once he sees the paperwork," she said worriedly. "He obviously wants something from Harry. He may try to use the information as leverage."

Ginny's feelings aligned with Harry's. "So?" she asked, equally untroubled. She continued, "Let him try. Percy managed to keep it quiet so far, but the records are already there in the ministry just waiting to be found. It was only a matter of time before someone found out."

"Exactly," Harry said. "I'd rather not all the details be shared, but Ginny's status as a Black is going to become obvious very quickly." Ginny glanced down and looked at the horrid ring on her finger before her eyes flicked to the signet ring on Harry's. Bill had disillusioned them for their trip to Diagon Alley, but the charm had long since faded. "I'm going to be taking on the Potter mantle soon and that will raise questions as well. The information isn't really all that valuable."

"Don't get us wrong," Ginny said, taking in the dumbstruck looks on the other couple's faces. "It's always good to be prepared and know what to expect from someone like him, but it's not terrible or anything."

"Okay," Ron said slowly, drawing out the word in his confusion. Hermione had the look of someone trying and failing to understand a math problem.

Silence descended and in the void of sound, Ginny became far too aware of her other senses. Harry's scent was in her nose, the heat coming off of his body warming her, and a thrum spreading through her where his leg rested against hers. It was entirely inappropriate that she should be so consumed by him at a moment that was completely innocent and lacking in privacy, yet the longer the silence stretched, the more the anticipatory tension rose.

It felt like far too much time had passed, even if it was only one minute, when she decided she needed to escape. "Right," she said abruptly as she stood and wiped imaginary dirt off her trousers. "I need to talk to Mum, and Harry has some things to talk to you about anyway, so I'm going to go." There was a definite awkwardness to the way she spoke that made her cringe internally, but she forced a smile. Harry gave her a look that clearly stated he wanted her to stay, but she waved goodbye before hastily leaving.

She let the smile fall as she made her way down the stairs. Everything in her life had taken a bizarre turn as of late. The most strange was how she and Harry had become virtually inseparable. There was a time when he hadn't even noticed when Ron would shoo her away from the group, but now he asked for her to stay and was disappointed when she didn't.

And her mother… well her mother had stopped acting like her _mother_. As much as she appreciated the latitude she'd been given recently, it was still unnerving. Also painful. Because the sudden distance made her feel like she was somehow less her parents' daughter than she had been before.

Rationally, she knew it wasn't how they saw it. She was very much aware that her mother was prone to depression and guilt that manifested as leniency when she felt she had done wrong by her children (all the nonsense she had let the twins get away with after she yelled at them before the Death Eater attack at the World Cup was evidence enough of that), but it still hurt. So much had changed, and she felt like she needed her mum back, no matter how childish it made her feel.

She paused outside the kitchen door before entering, just to steady herself. Taking a deep breath first and pasting another fake smile to her face, she entered the room.

Her mum was still preparing lunch at the counter, just like she expected. At the sound of the door opening, her mother turned and smiled slightly in greeting. She carried on preparing the meal without saying anything about Ginny's previous bad temper, completely ignoring the fact that Ginny had snapped at her and stomped up the stairs as soon as she and Harry had returned from Dumbledore's office. _This is why you need to have this conversation,_ she told herself firmly, pushing back the awkwardness.

She took a minute to bolster her courage while her mum bustled about the room looking for supplies. Just as she was about to speak, her mother opened a drawer that sent knives flying upward and into the ceiling with a frightening amount of force. Her mother let out an oath and jumped back in surprise, lucky to have been out of range of the missiles.

"... hell, this blasted cursed kitchen will be the death of me!" She ranted as she slammed the drawer shut again. This was following an impressive string of curses that Ginny was surprised to learn her mother knew at all. Beneath the surprise, however, was a great deal of concern. The harried air surrounding her mother as she continued her search in agitation had Ginny worried for her.

"Is there anything I can do?" Ginny asked tentatively, wanting to help but unsure how. "I have all this money now," she said, feeling awkward about doing so, but making the offer none-the-less. "I can replace anything here if it's a problem."

"I know, dear," her mother responded with a sad smile. "I appreciate it, but I just miss my own kitchen. You shouldn't worry about that though. It's not your fault."

"Pretty sure it is," Ginny mumbled

Her mum sighed. "It's not, Ginny. Your father and I made this decision. We need to accept the consequences." The statement was said heavily, carrying the weight of more than just the change in their living arrangements. She carried on, "Of course, we didn't think it would become public knowledge so soon when we agreed. Ron showed you what Percy found, I suppose?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. I guess Scrimgeour will know shortly, but he may not do anything with the information. It may not become public yet."

"These things never stay secret for long. If one person at the Ministry knows, it's only a matter of time before the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who find out." Her mum sighed. "It's fine staying here, really. I just worry about the Burrow."

"I spoke to Dumbledore about it today, actually," Ginny said. "That's where Harry and I came from," she added, realizing she hadn't explained herself at all when they returned.

Her mother nodded. "Bill floo called. He told me."

"I asked about a Fidelius, so we could go back, but he said it wouldn't work." Thoughts of her family home created a longing in her chest that had her playing with her hair nervously. She missed it, but knew it would never be the same for her anymore. It felt like something from the past - the way remembering your favorite stuffed animal from childhood was comforting, but the toy itself no longer was. Her mother had built her adult life in that home though, and Ginny didn't want to let anything happen to it. "Is there anything I can do? Can I pay someone to take care of the orchard or any spells to maintain the house?"

Teary-eyed, her mother responded, "No. Thank you, dear. You don't need to worry yourself over anything. You have quite enough to worry about already," she said sadly.

She quickly returned to her preparations, not offering anything else in the way of conversation. Her mother's shoulders were sagging dejectedly and her movements distracted, giving away the upset she felt at the topic. Ginny knew it was time to bring the issue out into the open.

"I know you feel guilty, but you don't have to act like… I'm still your daughter," she said quietly, unable to keep the vulnerability at bay.

"Of course you are darling," her mother said, quickly pulling her into a suffocating embrace. There was a sheen in her eyes when she pulled back and said, "But you're not a little girl anymore. You haven't been in a long time, and it's hard to navigate that line. I want to keep you bundled up safely, but there is nowhere that I can put you that will do that. The best thing now is to let you and Harry learn to protect yourselves." She sighed. "You're right, though. I have been feeling guilty and… it's hard adjusting to the idea that my daughter doesn't need me anymore so much as she needs a _boy_, especially when it's partially due to my own actions."

Hearing her suspicions confirmed was unpleasant, even if it was comforting to know that her mum wasn't abandoning her. "You're my mum," she said softly. "I'll always need you."

"I know that, love," her mother replied with a soft smile. A gleam that had Ginny equal parts happy and anxious entered her mum's eye. Her voice was a little too casual as she said, "There is something I've been wanting to talk to you about..."

"Okay," Ginny responded slowly, her nervousness picking up at the tone. She knew that look meant her mother was going to enjoy whatever was coming slightly, but that her amusement would be at Ginny's expense.

"I know you've been sleeping with Harry," she said frankly. Ginny sputtered, trying to come up with an appropriate denial. Her mother barely batted an eyelash at her before carrying on, "I also know there is nothing untoward going on." Her laughter was light as she looked at Ginny's shocked expression. "Your father and I know unrequited love when we see it, and it's clear as day that boy is trying his best to hide it."

Ginny sat silently and stared at her mother. _Everyone has gone insane_, she thought, but part of her was thinking about the way Harry always touched her and the looks he'd been giving her. The way he...

She snapped out of her daze just in time to see her mother's contemplative look as she said, "You don't use silencing charms when you're with him."

"You knew about that?" Ginny asked, embarrassed.

"I'm your mother, dear. Of course your father and I knew about them. It's just… you seemed so much happier pretending everything was normal, and it made everything worse when we tried to make you talk about it."

Ginny nodded and quietly said, "Thank you. I - I wanted to be better so badly. Having you all act normally made it easier to feel normal."

"I did come to realize that, yes. I'm sorry it took so long," she said with a sad smile as she stroked Ginny's cheek. "Now, while I know nothing has happened _yet_, I have no doubt that you two will admit your feelings at some point, and when you do, I want you to be prepared."

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, blushing furiously and quickly looking around for eavesdroppers. She did not want to talk about this. Not about her feelings for Harry or the feelings people kept telling her that he had for her. And she _definitely _did not want to have the sex talk in the exposed kitchen of Grimmauld Place where any member of the Order could suddenly arrive.

She quickly used her wand to lock the kitchen door and set up a silencing charm.

On the surface, privacy was her concern. Her new wand felt warm and pleasant in her hand, however, like an extension of the best parts of herself, and it reminded her of something else - _someone else_ \- that felt similar.

Her heart was pounding as she remembered what she had seen in the office, how connected she and Harry had been in the most mesmerizing way, and how an unstoppable wave of hope swept over her as she recognized it. The feeling hadn't abated since. She knew how dangerous a thing hope could be, but this was a different kind of hope… there was something pure about it that was new. Harry's actions had done nothing to dissuade her of the notion and, on the contrary, had reinforced it.

It was dangerous territory. That beautiful hope could very well do her in, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It had already taken root in her, from the tips of her toes to the ends of hair. She could no more rid herself of it than she could rid herself of the blood in her veins.

Her mother's laughter interrupted her musings. She felt that horrible flush spread across her cheeks and down her chest. "I know about… _stuff_," she said. "Do we really need to do this here? Now?" She pleaded.

Her mother opened her mouth to respond before snapping it shut as the fire flared green and Bill stepped out. She shot her mother an "I told you so" and turned to greet him, but stopped when Fleur stepped out behind him. She saw the thinning of her mum's lips as she caught sight of the French girl and understood immediately that her mother didn't approve of her brother's new fiancee. Fleur had apparently noticed too, because the excitement fled from her face and left only politeness in its place.

It was Fleur's kindness and understanding that day at Gringotts - and her love for her brother - that convinced her to stay in the kitchen and run interference between the two. Molly Weasley had hospitality down to an art and would in no way be outright rude to Fleur, but she was also quite capable of making someone feel inferior in the nicest possible way, so that they had no recourse that didn't make them look like an arse. Not that long ago, she might have wanted to help her mother use the strategy on an unsuspecting Fleur, but things had changed. She figured she owed the couple a few favors.

So she endured the awkward greetings and stayed in the kitchen with the older women, even though she would much rather follow Bill up the stairs to talk to the others.

It was not an enjoyable time and she was more than relieved when her mother left to gather everyone while she and Fleur stayed to finish preparing the trays and setting the table.

"Your muzzer 'ates me," Fleur said, her accent noticeably thicker than usual. The proud face she wore would have made it difficult to spot the underlying sadness in the words if Ginny hadn't known to look for it.

Ginny bit her lip. There was some truth to it. She had been watching the two carefully and discerned that while Fleur's contributions to the conversation had been an attempt to find common ground - the number of times she'd said "in France, we…" was absurd - that her mother had interpreted it as condescension. She didn't want to insinuate that it was Fleur's fault, because it was more her mother seeing what she wanted to see, but the older girl could do better with another tactic.

"There is no use in denying it. I know what it looks like. I have dealt with it my entire life," Fleur added.

Upon reflection, Ginny realized that was both probably true and very sad. Fleur's good looks and Veela charm would have set her apart and made other women envious, while men probably often gave her whatever she wanted without thought. Suddenly, Fleur's off-standish demeanor made a lot more sense.

"It's not really you," Ginny began gently. Fleur scoffed. "I mean it," she continued earnestly. "Mum… she has a tendency to view us in her own way, instead of how we really are. Bill was her first born, and I think she wants to believe that the direction he's taken his life is just a childish phase, that he hasn't grown up yet, but that he will someday and then he'll reach what she thinks is his full potential. Join the Ministry and follow in Dad's footsteps. Seeing him so committed to you though, someone glamorous and so unlike herself, is making her realize that's not who he is." She shook her head a bit. "She has a hard time letting go. It's easier for her to blame you than admit that."

Fleur gave her a shrewd look. "What about you, then?" she asked. "You're very grown up for the youngest, but from what Bill has said, she's given you a lot of responsibility."

"Guilt," Ginny said simply. Not wanting to explain, she continued quickly, "Look, there are two effective ways to handle our mum. Either you're direct and force the issue out into the open - and believe me, it doesn't always go well - or you butter her up," she explained, thinking of all the blow-up fights she and her mother had when the direct approach went south versus the way Fred and George could schmooze themselves out of trouble. "Just ask her how you can do things the way she does it. 'Bill simply raves about your chicken, Molly, but he's not interested in coq au vin. Can you tell me how to make it? He's so polite, but I know he prefers your cooking'. Or something."

Fleur let out a tinkling laugh that had Ginny wincing. _Of course she sounds like an angel even when she laughs. _She immediately put a stop to that thought. She was doing her best to limit any unnecessary jealousy, but it was still hard when Fleur's beauty radiated out of her even in the drab kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, oui," Fleur said, the sarcasm was particularly ugly coming from her, but strangely made Ginny more endeared to the girl. "I'm sure she'll believe that."

Ginny shrugged. "I'm telling you, the woman sees what she wants to see." There were footsteps on the stairs now that Ginny assumed was her mother returning with the others. "Go on," she said, inclining her head to the door in gesture before turning back to the platter she was supposed to be preparing, "try it. Couldn't make it worse, in any case."

Fleur contemplated it before nodding. "This is true," she said with a nod.

The door to the kitchen opened, but it was not her mother returning. To her pleasant surprise, it was just Bill and Harry. Bill made a beeline for Fleur, greeting her with a kiss and quietly asking how things had been going. Ginny hardly noticed, because Harry made his way directly toward her.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning against the counter next to her. "Your mum went to find Ron and Hermione. Need any help?"

"I've got it," she said, appreciating the gesture but also worried about how tired he looked despite the smile he gave her. She turned around, resting her back against the counter and asking in a whisper, "How'd it go?"

He shrugged, leaning over and stealing a carrot off the tray she had been preparing. The movement brought him closer, so that his right side now rested against hers. He passed the vegetable back and forth between both hands until giving up and letting it dangle uneaten on his left side. His right hand went up and ruffled his hair, before giving up and placing it on the counter behind her.

"Bout as well as could be expected, really," he said tiredly. "Hermione pretended not to be upset before running off to the library. Ron looked completely stunned and said they'd be there for me, however they could."

She didn't miss the surprise in his tone. With a raised brow she asked, "Was that even a question?"

"I dunno," he said, looking embarrassed. "Wouldn't have blamed him if he didn't want to get involved," he added, looking away and taking a bite of the carrot quickly.

Ginny couldn't contain her eye-roll. "Silly boy," she said in exasperation. "We love you. Of course we're going to stick by you." She bumped his hip with hers in emphasis of how ridiculous the notion that they'd ever abandon him was.

He'd been standing with his legs crossed and her gentle push caused him to lose his balance. The arm behind her on the counter shot forward, wrapping around her waist to keep him balanced. She sputtered a little at the tight grip, finding herself firmly held against him now. The heat that Harry's touch caused was both new and familiar at this point and ignited immediately.

They pulled apart quickly at Fleur's laugh. Trying to control her blush, she glanced at her brother who was giving Harry an assessing look. "Bit clumsy there, Potter?"

Before Harry could stammer a response, she butted in, "I pushed him, Bill. I forgot that not everyone is made like a tank the way our brothers are."

Bill laughed. "I wouldn't call Ron or Percy tanks, but you are a deceptively strong little thing, aren't you?"

"Stop it, Bill," Fleur said lightly. "She'd have to be tough with all you boys running around. You should be grateful that she can take care of herself."

"I never said it was a bad thing," he defended.

"Non, but if it is good, then you should not tease her," she said, tapping the end of his nose with one of her delicate fingers. "You may regret it. I did." The way she laughed at herself increased Ginny's respect for her immensely, and a smile spread across her face. Harry laughed softly from beside her.

She tried to tamp it down and look contrite when Fleur looked her way, but the older girl smiled and shook her head. "You can laugh," she said. "I deserved it. To be clear, I'm sorry, to both of you. I was feeling rather attacked at the time - none of the students seemed happy with my being chosen for the tournament - but that is no excuse for trying to make others feel as though they were less."

Ginny smiled encouragingly. She had put it behind her already, but the formal apology was appreciated. "Thank you," she said warmly. "For the record, I may have overreacted, and I'm sorry."

Fleur turned to Harry, as did Ginny. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen the two actually interact since the tournament, aside from their mad dash out of Gringotts, which she didn't really count. His head quickly turned to Fleur when she looked at him, as if he had been staring at Ginny and didn't want to be caught looking. Now that she was focusing on him, she felt his fingers twirling the ends of her hair behind her back.

"It's fine, Fleur. Everyone had something bad to say about me that year. It's not like you were special or anything," he said teasingly.

Warmth spread through her. To some, the light way he spoke to Fleur may have seemed like flirting, but Harry wasn't like that. She'd seen him with Cho - he would get moon-eyed, blush and stammer, much the same way Ron did with Fleur. Most men were like that around Fleur, she noticed. Bill wasn't, but he looked at her with genuine admiration, not the spellbound look other males gave her. Harry's demeanor resembled neither - just one friend poking fun at another - and his amused eyes didn't linger before returning to Ginny's.

Instead of letting her thoughts get in the way, she leaned back and enjoyed the comfortable moment, beaming as she looked into his eyes. Harry's hand was still twirling her hair so gently she had to concentrate to feel it, while Fleur leaned happily into Bill's side looking like two halves of a whole. The four of them sharing a content silence was nothing she ever would have imagined just weeks ago, but it was happening now, feeling surprisingly _right_.

Footsteps on the stairs brought her back to reality. Ron and Hermione entered the kitchen and headed for Harry. She began setting the plates as soon as she heard the noise, but hadn't moved fast enough - her mother was there scowling at the unset table before she could finish.

"Molly!" Fleur said, sounding relieved. "Ginny was trying to show me how to prepare the vegetables for the soup tonight. She did her best, but she doesn't have much practice and couldn't show me how to get the pieces even like you were. Can you teach me? I'm afraid my own mother was not much of a cook and it would mean so much to me if you could help. It's important for a woman to be able to cook, no? If Bill is to be believed, no one can cook like his mother, and I would very much like to learn from the best."

Ginny shot Fleur a mock glare, but the French woman smiled innocently at her. Her mum eyed the two with suspicion, but began showing Fleur her technique.

"You really should be paying attention, Ginny. You too, Hermione," she said, politely demanding the younger girls join in. She looked over in time to catch the disgruntled look on Hermione's face and Ron's blush as Bill spoke to him in quiet tones. Harry sat beside them looking amused until a look from Bill silenced him.

Hermione reluctantly joined them, though she became more interested as she realized Mrs. Weasley was using magic. Ginny had seen it all before and found nothing interesting about it, but realized that to a muggleborn, magical kitchen practices would be completely foreign, since they would have no exposure to them at school or at home. Even when Hermione stayed with them at the Burrow, she would have had little opportunity to see it, as Ginny's mum always had the children help prepare the meals without magic as a means of keeping them busy and out of trouble.

Both younger girls actually did watch - and practice in Ginny' case - with them. Fleur kept up her innocent facade, asking pertinent questions without appearing condescending. The shift in her demeanor teamed with Hermione's genuine curiosity had her mother was answering them kindly rather than with distrust after only a few minutes. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny noticed Bill watching his fiancee and mother interact with an amused smile on his face.

"I still prefer to do it by hand," Harry whispered. She jumped, not realizing he had come up behind her. "Come on," he said, tugging her hand and pulling her into the seat beside his.

Ron sat across from them, happily munching on what little food Ginny had managed to get on the table before Fleur distracted her mum. He was looking at the group preparing food still and greeted her distractedly with a full mouth. She grimaced but ignored it, carefully watching him to see who exactly he was looking at. Harry pulled her attention before she could figure it out for sure, though she rather thought- and hoped - it was Hermione who was holding his attention.

"So," he said quietly, pulling her attention. "I talked to Bill and set up training times with him, Fleur, and Tonks so far. If it's okay with you."

"I'm sure it's all fine," she replied, unconcerned. It's not like they had any other plans trapped as they were in Grimmauld Place.

"You sure? We start Occlumency with Fleur-"

"I trust your judgement," she cut in. "Besides, she's really not that bad," she added, looking over at the woman in question. She found Harry eyeing her in surprise when she looked back at him. Offended, she said, "I'm not that unreasonable, Harry."

"No," he said quickly. "I know that, but _I'm_ nervous about it and we get on pretty well. I thought it would be worse for you."

She nodded. "I'm not really comfortable with anyone in my head," she said thoughtfully, "but Fleur has been surprisingly respectful toward me and I can respect and appreciate that." It was true. Fleur hadn't treated Ginny any differently than she had Mum. She had treated her like an equal.

"Really?" he asked skeptically. "After what she just said about your cooking skills, I thought you'd feel otherwise."

Ginny waved a dismissive hand. "It was smart, actually. She was just taking my advice."

Harry didn't comment further, though he still had that faint air of surprise about him. Instead he replied, "Well, that's good."

"Yup," she said. The four others had finished preparing now and laid the food out across the table. Eyeing it, she asked, "Can we eat now? I'm starving."

He laughed and handed her the tray. "Still a Weasley in appetite, I see," he said playfully. "Where you people hide all that food, I'll never figure out."

"Just you wait," she replied. "Mum will have you eating like the rest of us in no time."

The rest of the meal passed with similar good natured ribbing. Her mother still seemed skeptical of Fleur, but was much more open than she had been before. She noted with amusement that Ron kept his chair angled toward Hermione, her, and Harry, pointed slightly away from where Fleur sat at the end of the table with Bill and her mum. As much as she wanted to take the mickey, she kept her comments to herself. She didn't want to spark an argument between her brother and his crush, since they seemed to finally be progressing toward something more than just friendship.

He put his own foot in it shortly after that by turning into an idiot when Fleur kissed his cheek in farewell at the end of the meal. She did feel a little bad for him, however, because he looked about as angry at himself as Hermione seemed to be. It was reassuring to see Hermione's jealousy, however, because it meant she wasn't entirely freaking out about the prophecy news. Then again, perhaps Hermione had already expected it.

She didn't get a chance to ask. Her mum roped them all into chores, insisting they needed to clean the place much better now that they knew they would be staying there for the foreseeable future. The rest of the day passed in a disgusting blur of dust, dirt, and grime. She was sufficiently sore and worn out by the time she and Harry had gotten ready for bed and met up in their room.

As she climbed into bed, she asked through a yawn, "I know we have a lot to talk about, but can we talk do it tomorrow? I'm so tired."

Harry nodded, looking exhausted himself. He yawned too. "Sounds good."

She awoke some time later to a loud noise. She pulled out her wand instinctively, pointing it at the door. Harry was quicker than her, the red jet of light illuminating the room indicating he'd sent a stunner at whatever created the disturbance. She threw up a shield directly behind it.

"Mistress Ginevra," said a croaking voice.

She let the shield drop as she recognized Kreacher's voice. Sagging in relief, she pulled Harry's wand arm down. His hand shook beneath hers, reminding her how different his life had been from hers that he was always prepared for an attack. Her heart ached for all that he'd been through, even as it sped up as she worried about what Kreacher was doing there in the middle of the night.

"What's happened? Is everyone alright?" She asked in a rush.

"Mistress Ginevra and Master have a visitor. The Headmaster of their school tried to get them, but Kreacher's magic stopped them," he said. It sounded to Ginny like he was rather pleased with himself. "He wishes for Mistress and Master to join him, but assured Kreacher it is not urgent."

Ginny let out her breath in relief as Harry did the same. She laid back and stared at the ceiling. "Sure, Kreacher. Only him though, and only this once, 'kay?" She replied, desperately wanting to just go back to bed with Harry. She rubbed her eyes and fought against the urge to give in to the exhaustion. "Study!" she called, as she woke up a bit more. "Bring just him to the study. We'll meet him there."

"Yes, Mistress," he replied, bowing and disappearing with a crack.

Ginny looked down at herself and groaned. "Ugh. I really need to bring my clothes up here." Her threadbare dressing gown and Ron's old shirt was really not something she wanted the headmaster to see her in.

Harry, who had been grumbling about Kreacher, sat up and put on his glasses. He handed her his own robe. "Take mine. Dumbledore has seen me looking much worse than this."

The headmaster was waiting in the study when they arrived, appearing far too awake for the middle of the night, particularly considering how tired he had looked earlier that day. He smiled jovially at them, "Good evening. I apologize for the late hour, but I have a lead on my friend Horace and thought there would be no better time than the present."

Ginny bit back a snappy retort. She didn't believe for a second that it just so happened the man had tracked down Slughorn at nearly three o'clock in the morning. It seemed much more likely to her that this was a power play on Dumbeldore's part. She didn't blame him for it - it was probably a clever move actually - but he could at least be honest with his allies.

Harry didn't seem to share her compunctions. He shrugged sleepily but offered his assent. "Sure, why not?" He turned to her, "Right, Gin?"

"Fine," she replied. She didn't want to say anything about it right now, but she was still irritated with the headmaster. His blackened hand looked as horrid and painful as it did earlier, but he had removed the ring that once belonged to Tom. She couldn't help wondering if it was to avoid further questioning by her or his "friend" Slughorn. "But I need to get ready first." She turned to Dumbledore. "I assume I have time enough for that?" she asked, with only a small amount of belligerence.

Dumbledore's response was artificially nonchalant as he replied, "You really need not trouble yourself at all, Miss Black. Harry's presence alone shall be sufficient. It is late, after all. Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay and return to your rest?"

Her temper hadn't managed to form into a coherent rant before Harry was responding firmly, "Ginny is coming with us, sir. Or I'm going back to bed as well."

Relief swelled. Harry had assured her earlier that he wanted to include her - and she hadn't missed the significant looks the two had shared before Dumbledore asked for her opinion in his office earlier, during which Harry must have conveyed this message to the headmaster - but it was reassuring to see that Harry intended to follow through on his word.

Dumbledore nodded before addressing her again. "Of course, Miss Black," he replied graciously.

She took her time getting ready. Part of it was a necessity, because she had been too tired to take care of her hair before bed and gone to sleep with it wet - something she was paying for now as it looked like something had nested in it. The other part was because she needed time to wake up and get her wits about her if she was going to get answers from Dumbledore that night. She was confident that getting any straight answers from the man would be difficult at best, and closer to impossible if she were half asleep.

Harry and Dumbledore were deep in conversation when she returned. She caught enough of the conversation to realize Harry was grilling the older man about Fawkes and the feathers he had given Ollivander. He seemed fixated on when Fawkes had given them and if Dumbledore had known. She didn't really understand his interest. Despite the unfortunate connection, she (like Harry himself) couldn't bring herself to regret her new wand choosing her. She finally understood what he meant when he said his wand felt like an extension of himself.

It seemed foolish to her that he was wasting so much time on it. She was far more interested in Tom Riddle's ring, as well as the memory Slughorn possessed and why it was so important to Dumbledore. There was more going on here than he was letting on, and Ginny didn't have Harry's faith in the man.

Dumbledore gave her no time to ask about either. He stood as soon as she entered, looking down at his watch and saying, "Ah. Perfect timing. We must be going now. I wouldn't want to have to track him down again."

Ginny sat instead She decided now, when Dumbledore clearly wanted Harry, was the best time to try to leverage information out of him. "No. There are some things we need to talk about first. And I don't believe that your potential professor is going to run off in the next hour." She looked at Harry without waiting for his agreement. "Have you told him about the training we've set up?"

He looked sheepish as he replied, "No."

Dumbledore interjected, "Training? For what, exactly? And by whom?" The thread of interest lead back to something deeper, though Ginny couldn't determine what exactly.

Still she answered pointedly, "The prophecy makes it inevitable that Harry will face Tom again. He's going to win, but he can't hope to do that if all he has in his arsenal are spells as basic as _Expelliarmus._" Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, but he made no comment, so she continued. "We've talked to Bill. He's going to give us as much training as he can in wards. We may only get as far as detecting them, but he's going to try to teach us how to take them down too."

"A wise idea," Dumbledore said. "It takes quite a large amount of power to disable something as complex as antiaparition ward, but I don't believe that should be a problem for either of you." The twinkle in his eye made Ginny think the statement was supposed to be conciliatory, but she wasn't feeling placated.

"Tonks has also agreed to teach us of some of the Auror tricks, though I'd like to ask Moody as well," she said.

"He's mad," Harry put in, "but he didn't survive this long without being excellent at what he does."

Dumbledore nodded. "Astute observation. It is why I was so pleased to welcome him to the staff your fourth year."

Ginny scowled at the mention of the Death Eater impersonator that had successfully masqueraded as the auror and carried out Harry's abduction. Not wanting to lose her temper and spoil her whole plan, she focused back on detailing their training.

"And Fleur is going to teach us Occlumency," she said with finality.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise momentarily before he smoothed his expression. "Are you sure that's wise? Knowledge of the prophecy alone is dangerous. Perhaps it would be better if Severus - ".

"No," Harry butted in quickly. "Even if I wanted to, Snape wouldn't take me." His gaze cut to her before he looked back at the headmaster. Though their eyes had only met briefly, Ginny was surprised to see the hard, resolute look on his face. "And he's not doing to Ginny what he did to me." He shook his head. "No. Absolutely not," he added emphatically.

A small part of her wanted to protest him speaking for her, but the more rational side of her pointed out that she was about to do the same for him. She allowed that thought to comfort her and directed all her anger at the headmaster. "Snape may be a brilliant Occlumens, but he's a rotten, sadistic teacher," she said, backing Harry. "Neither of us needs that. I trust Fleur, as does Harry, and we'll decide who we allow access to our secrets."

"As is your right," Dumbledore agreed, though his tone was wary. "Though you must understand, if I cannot trust that the secrets I share with you will be kept, then I cannot answer all the questions you will ask of me."

Harry huffed beside her and Ginny took a deep breath. "The whole point of learning Occlumency is so that we can keep those secrets," she said. "We're not idiots. Fleur isn't either, nor is her mind unprotected."

Harry tapped at her clenched hand and she released the fist she had been holding. Holding it in his, he addressed Dumbledore calmly. "When and if it comes down to that, we'll just have to see how far along we are in our training. Maybe it won't even matter."

"Very well. We can reassess when the time comes. As I mentioned at our last meeting, it was my intention that said time not begin until the school year had resumed. You had, however, expressed concerns about this," he said, leveling a look at her specifically.

It felt like a challenge, and Ginny stuck her chin out stubbornly as she met his gaze. "I did, and I _do_ still. If what knowledge you have already is so valuable that you don't trust Fleur, a triwizard champion and member of the Order with it, then we need to know it too."

"We will have time," he replied, but his eyes dropped to his damaged hand.

Harry spoke quietly as he asked, "Is it cursed, Professor? The ingredients Snape came for, well, they're not very common." Ginny knew the same thing, but she didn't expect the headmaster to answer such a direct question.

Dumbledore looked at Harry for a long moment, and Ginny had the feeling they were once more having a one-sided conversation through legillimency. When his blue eyes turned to her, she made no attempt to hide her lack of faith in his assurances. He sighed heavily before lifting the hand to the light, truly showing the horrible damage it had sustained. This time, he allowed his wince to show as he flexed the fingers.

"It is, my boy," he said calmly. "I know the trajectory however, and this shall not be what kills me. I can assure you of that."

"Speaking of," Ginny said, "would you care to tell us now how you got it? And how it relates to Tom Riddle's ring?"

"Actually, before we begin, I was hoping you may care to tell me how you know it as such, and if there is anything more you could tell me that would be of use," he replied. She might have thought it an evasion tactic, except he was staring at her with a level of interest that made her feel uncomfortable. He was asking for information that could only be garnered by probing memories she had fought so hard to lock away, and she stiffened against her will.

Harry's grip kept her grounded, as did his angry defense. "Is that really necessary? She doesn't need to relive any of that," he said firmly.

"I do believe it is, Harry," he said gravely. "It is my thought, knowing the prophecy, that you cannot hope to defeat your enemy unless you first understand him. For many years now - though admittedly with more focus over the last few specifically - I have been studying Tom Marvolo Riddle's past, trying to grasp his nature more fully and what he had done that enabled his rise to power. I had hoped to share the information I gathered through a collection of memories during our private lessons this coming term. However, I believe I have overlooked a rather valuable source." He turned his piercing gaze on Ginny as he continued, "It never occurred to me, Miss Black, that you may have retained some of Tom Riddle's memories first-hand. I had assumed - like most, I believe - that once the diary had perished, so had all he had given you. Yet, looking at your magical core, the stains still remain, as do the shadows, I imagine. For how else could you know of such an item?"

Ginny looked at him blankly. The man questioning her was not the headmaster as she knew him. _This_ was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the head of the Wizengamot, the man Fudge had been afraid of. He was shrewd and calculating, and she knew he was not asking this of her without reason. Her skin crawled at the prospect of it, but she couldn't refuse him the answers he sought.

"Can you," she had to swallow against the tightening in her throat to continue speaking. Already she felt dirty, like she were covered in the grime and blood once more, and she squeezed Harry's hand with both of hers to fight off the urge to scrape under her nails. She tried again, "Can you just pull them out? I don't… I can't…" she struggled to get the words out.

"I understand, Miss Black," Dumbledore said, his demeanor softening back to the man she was familiar with. "At our next meeting, I shall come prepared with the pensieve, if that is agreeable."

She exhaled in relief and nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course, my dear. It is the preferred method, in any event. It is how I acquired all the others, as well as what I hope to do with Horace Slughorn. Once we retrieve him," he said, glancing down at his watch. "Ah, it seems time has gotten away from us. We must be getting along now if we hope to catch him," he said as he stood and swept out of the room without waiting for confirmation.

Harry shrugged, offering her a hand up and leading her down the stairs after him. They caught up to Dumbledore in the front hall, where the man was looking at the former resting place of Walburga Black's portrait thoughtfully. Ginny let out a small breath of annoyance. _He's easily distracted for someone who claims to be in a hurry. _

"I must say, I find myself quite surprised to see you have found a way to remove the portrait. Even I could not nullify the stubborn charm. How did you manage it?"

"Kreacher," Ginny said simply, doing her best to let the annoyance go.

The older wizard chuckled. "Ah, wizards can be rather foolish, can't we? It is important to remember that. Never underestimate your allies or your opponents, no matter their size." He looked at her directly. "I must say I was impressed by the way Kreacher spoke of you and the protections he placed on the house. I would not have been able to reach you had he not allowed it."

"Kreacher is…" she paused, trying to find the right word for him. Her feelings were still complicated toward him, but he really did seem to care about her.

"Loyal," Harry filled in, his look pained. "He's loyal to those who are loyal to him," he clarified. Ginny nodded and squeezed the hand she still held in comfort.

"Very wise of you then, to offer such loyalty," Dumbledore replied.

Ginny ignored him and led Harry down the stairs to the kitchen, eager to move away from the area and the topic of conversation. As she opened the door, it occurred to her that she didn't have an idea where they were going and she looked over her shoulder. "Where are we going exactly?" Ginny asked Dumbledore. "Do we even need the floo? Or were we going to apparate?"

She didn't get to hear his reply, a different voice greeting her with a shout and soon as they stepped into the kitchen._ "Where do you two think you're going?!"_

Ginny jumped and turned toward her mother in surprise. She was in her dressing gown, worn slippers upon her feet and her hair looking like she had been pulling on it. The large Weasley family clock sat on the table next to a cup of tea that no longer gave off steam, and Ginny knew she must have been up a long time for her mum to have let the warming charm dissipate as she stared at the bulky locator.

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed. "What are you doing up?"

Her mother pinned a glare on her that made her flinch. "I woke up to check on you, but I couldn't get upstairs," she said angrily. Ginny realized with a start that Kreacher must have misunderstood her and allowed only Dumbledore up the stairs. "I checked the clock and it said you were _home_. I then checked the Burrow, but no one had been there, so I came back, but I couldn't check _here_ either."

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Hello, Molly," he said pleasantly, ignoring the angry look on her face. "I'm quite sorry to have worried you this evening. I -"

"It is _morning _now! What were you thinking? Taking the children Merlin knows where in the middle of the night without so much as a warning! You had no right!" she raged against him. Ginny couldn't help but be surprised to see her mother talking to the headmaster as if he were a wayward child.

"I _am _quite sorry for worrying you, but seeing as Harry and Ginny are no longer technically children - ".

"_That_ is not the point. She is my daughter! And he is as good as my son. The only part of the emancipation that has any relevance is that I no longer have to let him go to those horrible muggles because you said so! It does not mean that you can encourage them to run off!"

"Mum," Ginny said again. Her mother turned angry eyes on her, breathing heavily. She shouldn't have agreed to go with Dumbledore without leaving a note, especially since her mum just told her the previous day that she often checked on them at night.

"Don't even try it, Ginevra," she said stonily. "You may have the legal rights of an adult, but I am still your mother. At least when you went to Longbottom Manor, you had the decency to tell me where you were going! Not disappear in the middle of the night with no word." She turned to Harry. "I may not be your mother, but I love you like one of my own. I have spent far too many nights not knowing where you were or how you were doing, and I will no longer allow it. Is that clear?"

Ginny nodded immediately, eager to show her mother that she was not going to be difficult. Harry was immobile beside her, simply staring at her mum with wide eyes. She elbowed him and he snapped out of it. "Nod," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

He did what she said, nodding vigorously and added a stuttering, "Y-yes."

Something in her mother's eyes softened as she looked at Harry. Ginny could see the understanding there, the knowledge that he wasn't used to having someone looking out for him or caring where he was had taken the wind out of her sails. That didn't mean she would completely forgive them either.

"Good. Now you two need to go back to bed," she ordered in a much more controlled voice before turning her attention back to Dumbledore. Ginny nodded and pulled Harry along quickly, hoping to avoid drawing her mum's attention again. They had almost cleared the doorway when she heard her mother add sharply, "in your _own_ beds tonight. Thank you."

As bad as Ginny felt for worrying her mum and as much as she was not looking forward to the coming lecture or sleeping in Hermione's room, she still felt like smiling. This woman was the mother she had always known, not the passive one she'd seen in the past two weeks, and it was good to have her back.


	20. Chapter 18

Mrs. Weasley's edict had lasted less than two days. That first night, Harry and Ginny had willingly gone to their own beds, though neither had made any attempt to sleep. The next morning they both made their way to the kitchen as soon as they heard Mrs. Weasley stir. The entire day passed in a sleepy haze before they returned to their own beds once more that night. Unable to fight the exhaustion any longer, both had fallen asleep.

Harry was woken not much later by Ron. It was a good thing, as he'd been having a nightmare that Voldemort had managed to lure Ginny out of Grimmauld Place and was torturing her somewhere he didn't recognize. He had wasted no time in shoving Ron aside and thundering down the stairs to make sure she was still in bed.

The harsh manner in which he had slammed the door to the girls' room open had woken Hermione, but he was far too focused to take notice of it. All he could comprehend was that Ginny's bed was empty, the blanket and sheets strewn about as if there had been a struggle. His vision tunneled, his breath coming in short gasps as his stomach dropped to his feet. Ron and Hermione were speaking, but the sound wasn't penetrating the panic he felt.

One last hope had him launching himself out of the room and down the stairs again once more. Between the stories Ginny had told him and the journal entries of he had read, he knew how she and Sirius had become closer talking over late night cups of tea in the kitchen. He prayed to every deity he could think of that she was there.

The relief he felt seeing her rush out of the kitchen with her wand raised was so acute his chest hurt from it. It was without thought to the fact that Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley were watching that he pushed the wand aside and pulled her to him in an embrace. She was there, safe and sound, and nothing else mattered.

It was only the worry in her voice as she asked what had happened that made him pull back. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes swollen and red as if she'd been crying. His hand had gone to her cheek, trying to angle it better toward the limited light of the stairwell. "Are you alright?" he had questioned, ignoring her question.

"Asks the guy who just came running down the stairs as if he were being chased by dementors," she responded, attempting to make a joke but falling short.

"I'm fine," he said immediately. "Now, anyway," he added quietly.

"Neither of you are fine," Mrs. Weasley interjected, reminding him that they had an audience. She stood beside Ron and Hermione, all three of them wearing concerned looks. He pulled back slightly as he felt the combined weight of their worried gazes, but not so far that he couldn't keep some physical contact with Ginny. "I found Ginny having a nightmare under a silencing charm. Who knows how long it would have gone on had I not checked on her," she continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "And Ron said you were as well."

Harry nodded silently. There was no use trying to deny or explain - Ron had obviously shared what had happened while he was preoccupied with Ginny. Ginny slipped closer to him and he wrapped his arm around her automatically.

Mrs. Weasley's head tilted up slightly and she sniffed. The light caught her eyes as she moved, glinting as it illuminated the unshed tears in her eyes. She nodded to herself before saying in a thick voice, "Everyone should go back to bed. Ron and Hermione, go on back to your rooms. Ginny and Harry, wait for a moment while I get you some tea."

Mrs. Weasley had been quiet while she prepared the tea, and they stayed silent as well, just basking in the fact that they were together and fine. Finally she joined them at the table, heaved a sigh, and gave them permission to return to sleeping in their room together, so long as she could always have access to check in on them. They both readily agreed, and the nightmares were thankfully a thing of the past once more. The difficulty of covering up his morning erection and trying to be inconspicuous about his morning wank were a small price to pay and entirely worth the comfort of sleeping beside her each night.

Over two weeks had passed, and now - two days before Harry's birthday - they all took a trip to Diagon Alley to go shopping. Ginny, who had along with Harry finally moved her things into their room, had been complaining about her wardrobe each morning with increasing vehemence. While Harry didn't mind look at her in the snug clothing, he could understand how it annoyed her when they were training.

Training was part of the new routine they had established with Tonks, Bill, and Fleur. It was refreshing and exciting, but also exhausting. Their performance surpassed what their trainers expected by a long-shot; he was fast and packed a significant amount of power into his spells, while Ginny performed magic far beyond her years almost effortlessly with her new wand. His physical endurance was greater than hers, but his spells grew weaker as their practice duels progressed. Ginny grew physically tired before he did, but never seemed to tire magically. Bill had attributed it to the Black magic she now possessed, claiming she had access to a deep reserve of magic now and the ability to quickly regenerate what was lost.

What Harry hadn't shared with anyone, not even Ginny because of how ludicrous it sounded, was that he was certain he was borrowing from the Black magic as well. He'd always been able to push through the magical exhaustion whenever his life was on the line, but these practice duels were more like his classes at school that lacked the proper sense of danger to motivate his magic to keep going. Despite this, whenever his magic started flagging during training, he got a second wind that undeniably felt like Ginny. He knew it made sense, given what Dumbledore had showed them of their magical connection, but it felt too personal to talk about with anyone besides Ginny and too embarrassing to tell her.

Regardless of how well they were doing, he and Ginny still fell into bed every night completely spent and woke early to begin again. While they kept busy with that, Ron had taken to working part time for Fred and George. Hermione, having exhausted all the research she could do, had returned to her own home to spend two weeks with her parents before rejoining them at Grimmauld Place just yesterday.

There was no lack of funding between them, so Ginny had successfully cajoled them all into shopping with her, chaperoned under Mrs. Weasley's insistence by Bill and Fleur. Harry suspected that Mrs. Weasley was rather eager to be rid of the other woman, as Fleur had taken to spending large amounts of time at Grimmauld Place since her engagement to Bill had been announced to the family. Given the way Mrs. Weasley had suddenly become so protective again after the incident with Dumbledore, he considered himself lucky that she allowed them to go with only two minders.

Dumbledore was still something of a puzzle. He had been so insistent that night that getting Slughorn was a priority, but had sent an owl the day after they'd seen him saying he had lost Slughorn's trail. They hadn't heard from him since, and Ginny was becoming increasingly annoyed with his absence.

She seemed to be increasingly annoyed with a lot of things recently, which is why he was currently dragging Ron out of the clothing shop the girls had spent the last hour perusing when he had resisted Ginny's offers to buy him anything. Ron didn't mean anything by it, but it was obvious that Ginny was hurt by the refusal. She didn't express pain the way other girls did with tears though - she simply got angry. Hoping to avoid a public blow-up, Harry quickly dragged Ron out of the dress shop to Fred and Geroge's shop a few doors down. He wanted to talk to him about it before he said something stupid that would hurt her, but they never seemed to have a moment alone.

It seemed now was not the time either. Neville, who Ginny regularly invited to join them whenever Ron and Hermione were around too, followed them, much to his dismay. He didn't blame him for not wanting to hang around with the girls, but was still annoyed that the boy had been around far too frequently as of late for Harry's liking.

Ginny was right to include him. He _knew_ that - Neville had been kind enough to let them use the dueling room at Longbottom Manor for their training, after all - but he didn't like it. Maybe it would have been different if Luna were around too, but she was still off in pursuit of some wild creature with her father. With just the five of them though, Ginny spent far too much time talking to Neville. It felt like he was always around at this point. It didn't help that he always seemed to have a stupid smirk on his face when Harry was feeling most annoyed with him.

Bill had followed them to the shop, but let them wander when they entered the store. Ron was immediately swept up by the twins to talk about their latest idea, leaving Harry behind with Neville. It didn't improve his resentment. Nor did the way Neville grabbed his arm and dragged him off to a quiet corner of the store.

"What the hell?" Harry asked in irritation, shaking his arm free. Neville was staring at him oddly, his expression one of resolve. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have one," he said calmly. "But you do, and it's about time we talk about it."

"I do not," Harry replied stiffly. He tried to walk around him and into the main store, but Neville pushed him back.

"You _do_," he insisted. A small smile slipped out as he continued, "As entertaining as it has been to see you acting like this, it's gone far enough, mate. Ginny is starting to worry. You've gotta know, I'm not interested in her," he said clearly. Harry narrowed his eyes, both at the other boy's attitude and in suspicion. "I mean, she's wonderful - don't get me wrong - but we're just friends. We always have been, I promise."

Harry gave him a hard look. Ginny was beautiful and smart and funny. She practically glowed with life. He couldn't understand how anyone close enough to see those parts of her wouldn't like her.

"Seriously?!" Neville said in complete exasperation. He tossed his head back and stared at the sky as if asking for Divine help and sighed heavily before looking back at Harry. Harry thought he heard him mutter, "_...both idiots, I swear._" He shook his head and looked back at Harry. "Even if I _did_ like her, Ginny is head over heels for you. Always has been. _Everyone_ knows that. How do you not?"

"Was," Harry correctly firmly. "She _was_." He shook his head sadly. "She's not anymore. She got over that a long time ago."

Neville groaned. "What is wrong with you two?" He grabbed Harry firmly by the shoulders, refusing to let go even when Harry squirmed. "Listen to me," he said strongly. "I am certain that Ginny _is_ in love with you, as in currently, as in at this exact moment. The same as you are with her." Harry tried to sputter a denial, but Neville squeezed his shoulders and said, "Stop being a damn coward and do something about it."

Despite having understood what his feelings for her meant for weeks - despite just barely refraining from kissing her several times - he had yet to attempt to initiate a romantic relationship. It _seemed _like she liked him back. They were in almost constant physical contact; she touched him as often as he touched her, perhaps even more. But he knew Ginny was like that - she casually touched a lot of people, he noticed this with particular dismay in regards to Neville - though it was new that she included him in her habit.

He wanted more, of course, but would rather spend his life pining for what could be and be able to enjoy what they did have, than risk losing her presence entirely. More than anything, he was terrified admitting his feels would mean scaring her off. With how close they had become, he wasn't sure he could stand a lack of her in his life. That fear had repeatedly drained him of all courage.

Feeling frustrated with the whole thing. Harry scowled at Neville when he was finally released. "She hasn't said anything," he argued.

Neville looked at him like he was questioning his mental faculties. "Ginny spent years with her feelings for you exposed and mocked without gaining anything in return. Why the hell would she say anything now?"

Harry's arguments disappeared. That was true. Her brothers, Malfoy, even the general student population who had witnessed the singing Valentine her first year had all been aware of and laughed at her feelings for him. If _he_ was too afraid to say anything, wouldn't it be worse for _her,_ given all her past experiences? Having feelings for him had never done her any good in the past.

Having your feelings exposed was embarrassing, something he had learned firsthand recently. Their first Occlumency lesson with Fleur had been the day after the first night Ginny and Harry spent apart - the night they had slept only a few hours together before effectively waking up at three in the morning. His attempt at shielding his mind had been an utter and complete failure, and Fleur had immediately waltzed into his thoughts and seen how desperately he longed for nothing more than to be curled around Ginny in their bed. She had the decency not to say anything, but the knowing look in her eye had been enough.

He didn't think she would say anything to Bill - in fact she had assured them both that they could trust her to keep their secrets - but that didn't much matter, because he was certain Bill already knew. He was fairly confident Bill had suspected the first night they spoke to him following the news of the betrothal that Harry's feelings were more than mere friendship. Even worse, the look Bill had given him the next day when he had hidden under the cloak to hide his growing erection suggested Bill knew what was going on. He'd made several veiled comments since - though none of them threatening - that had confirmed Harry's belief.

Now Neville had just called him out. Was it really that obvious?

"But how do I - what do I even- when?" Harry stumbled weakly through his questions. It suddenly seemed very daunting. Ginny was amazing, how could he ask anything of her? Cho hadn't ever meant even a fraction of what Ginny now did, and he'd needed to by guided to asking her out like a horse led to water. How was he supposed to -

Neville's laughter broke him out of his spiral. He glared at the other boy in annoyance, causing him to raise his hands placating. "Hey - don't get upset with me because _you're _making it harder than it has to be. Just buy the girl something nice and tell her you like her. It's not that hard." His face turned thoughtful and he added, "Well, not _too _nice. It's Ginny. She wouldn't thank you for that."

_No. Ginny definitely isn't most girls_, he thought. She was tough as nails, not frilly like Lavender or Parvati. Just last week they had been practicing apparating within the confines of Grimmauld Place under the supervision of Tonks and Bill. She had splinched herself - rather badly, as Harry had seen the bone of her ankle - but she hadn't cried or screamed at all. Harry's heart had been in his throat at the sight, but she had simply grit her teeth while Tonks went to work repairing the damage and flipped-off Bill as he berated her for her lack of determination. She wasn't going to agree to go out with him because he bought her something shiny or sweet.

Neville gave him a pat on the shoulder and slid by Harry's still form and back onto the shop floor. Harry himself followed in a bit of a daze, stopping randomly as he turned the idea over in his mind.

He knew he wanted to ask - that he had wanted to ask for some time now - but he wasn't sure it was the right thing. If Neville was wrong, then he'd be putting unfair pressure on her and could damage the partnership they already had. If Neville was right…

Neville broke him out of his thoughts with a tap on the shoulder. "Hey, mate," he said in amusement, "I know you're worried, but I don't think a love potion is the answer." He gestured to the bin in front of where Harry was standing - it was indeed filled with love potions that Harry hadn't noticed at all, consumed as his mind had been - before continuing, "You and Ginny are practically a couple anyway. Besides, Harry Potter looking at love potions is drawing a little too much attention." Neville gestured at the other nearby customers and Harry realized with some embarrassment that they appeared to have been watching him; several of them looked away quickly and began whispering when he turned in their direction.

He quickly stepped away from the display, but it wasn't embarrassment fueling his movements. It was what Neville had said about he and Ginny being a couple. Mainly, that despite its outward appearance, their relationship was not that of a couple.

Harry had seen enough pictures of his parents, heard enough stories about them, and even witnessed enough of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to know that the connection between a true, loving couple was almost a palpable thing. What he and Ginny had was a partnership. Though she trusted him, touched him, and looked at him differently than she did everyone else, he desperately wanted to see the open devotion and love in her eyes that he had seen in the pictures of his mother looking at his father. Even more so, he wanted to be free to return it.

He had the bond, so he knew he couldn't _lose _her, but he didn't actually _have_ her yet either. Neville was wrong. They were just two people with a connection working together. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted it to be _real_. Despite all he had been through, he had never in his life felt such an acute desire to love and to be loved as he did when he thought of her. Every other time he'd felt that way, he'd longed for his dead parents, which he never could hope to regain. This was different though. He had a chance here, if only he were brave enough to take it.

Purpose and determination settled over him. Neville was right about one thing, he had been a coward before. He was a damn Gryffindor - he could do this. He was _set_ on doing it, in fact, and it seemed imperative that he do it now.

"I'm going back to Ginny," he declared. "Do you know where Ron is?"

"Last I saw, he was up at the counter with the twins," Neville replied. He still looked faintly amused, but more than anything his expression demonstrated approval.

"Right. I'm going to let him know I'm leaving, then find Bill. I'll see you later, mate."

He made his way toward the middle of the store, where he found the eldest Weasley standing beside the shop counter, watching as Ron stood shoulder to shoulder with Fred and George, each assisting a different customer. Harry was surprised to see the store had become crowded, the line of customers waiting to make their purchases now rather long, and that Ron must have stepped in to help. When Bill spotted him, he eyed him carefully, "Everything alright, Harry? You look…"

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "But I'm ready to go back to the dress shop. You ready?"

At Bill's nod he called over the cacophony of customers and display sounds, "Hey, Ron!" His friend cast him a distracted glance, so he continued, "Bill and I are leaving. You good here?" Ron didn't look away from his customer, but nodded none-the-less.

It was fortunate for them that Bill had long legs, because Harry kept the pace quick as he walked with purpose. Not that it made much difference. Ginny was still in the changing room when they arrived, Fleur standing outside it hushing Ginny's complaints. She sounded exasperated, but Harry thought the look in her eyes was that of amusement, particularly once she caught sight of Harry and Bill.

"-completely ridiculous. Where would I even wear this?" he heard Ginny ask in a frustrated tone "Where did Hermione go? _She'd _agree with me."

Fleur placed a finger to her lips, an order for silence, when he and Bill were close enough before raising her voice in response."Hermione ran into some friends of yours and went to the bookshop. Would you like me to fetch them as well?"

"No!"

"Let's see it then!" she demanded. "The sooner you allow it, the sooner we shall be done here. It is almost time for your appointment."

"Then just give me back my clothes so I can get ready!" Ginny snapped back.

"Non!" Fleur said firmly. "Had you not spent so much time looking for things for your mother, we would have had plenty of time. We could have been done minutes ago if you would just let me see it on."

"I can't get it tied," was the belligerent reply. Harry smiled, envisioning the grumpy look that was no doubt distorting her features at the moment.

Fleur scoffed and slipped into the dressing room. He heard Ginny's squawk of indignation and Fleur tittering in French, before saying in English, "There is a simple spell for this. A young woman your age should _know_ these things."

"You've met me, and my mother. In what universe do you think I have ever worn something like this? Corseted bodices are completely insane, why would anyone want - ". Her diatribe was cut off by an audible gasp.

Fleur sounded rather smug when she said, "You are nearly a woman now, Ginevra. It is high time you look like it." A moment later, Fleur walked out, pulling a reluctant Ginny behind her toward the pedestal surrounded by mirrors.

Harry's jaw dropped. He knew he must have looked like an idiot, but Ginny was standing there in a dress that made her look… he wasn't even sure what exactly, just that he was completely blown away by it.

It was fitted and smooth over the torso, highlighting every curve at once without looking unchaste. The hem was looser and far shorter than any other robes he'd ever seen her in, the fabric shimmering as it moved. All the other small details were lost under the impression that she looked magical in it. There really was no other description he could come up with the describe the fluid way it shifted with her every move, or the way it refused to let him look away.

As he stared in awe at her standing on the pedestal twisting and turning to look at her dress from every angle with a pleasantly surprised look on her face, the normal longing he felt to be closer to her intensified. If he had just _talked_ to her already, perhaps they'd be in a real relationship now, and he'd be free to step up behind her and wrap his arms around her.

A fantasy formed in his mind of doing just that, his head bowing down to whisper in her ear all sorts of ridiculous things - things that he was sure in reality he would never be able to say out loud, but seemed appropriate for a fantasy - but he wasn't allowed to even try to do that yet.

"Harry!' Ginny said in surprise, straightening up and spinning around when her eyes finally caught his in the mirror. "Oh no. Is it time to go already? Am I that behind?" she asked quickly, climbing down and rushing back into the changing room. Harry was sad to see her go.

"No," he called over the partition. "You're fine. I'm early actually, but we're getting close."

Her heard her moving quickly as she responded, "Crap. I really wanted to get Neville's present while he was busy. Wait - he's not here too, is he?"

"Just me," Harry replied, hoping he didn't sound annoyed. The amused look Fleur had said that perhaps he did.

"Oh good. Maybe we still have time. I was wondering if maybe we could do a combined gift," Ginny said in relief. Her tone became annoyed as she continued, "Damn it. Fleur, I don't know how reverse whatever you did."

Fleur provided her with the appropriate spell good-naturedly, while Harry ruminated on them giving Neville's gift _together_. If things went well, perhaps it would be just the first of a lifetime of gifts given as a couple. He shook the thought away to listen to Ginny's idea.

"...but they're really rare, which must mean they're expensive, so I was thinking we could get him a _ since the two plants have a symbiotic relationship. This way if he does keep it with his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, he won't struggle to take care of both. I don't know if we have time now though. What do you think?"

Harry had missed most of it, but he trusted her judgement. "Sure. That is, do we have time?" he asked, directing the question at Bill.

Bill looked at his watch and pursed his lips. "Probably not."

"Ce n'est pas un problème," Fleur said quickly. "I will finish everything here and can go when you are at Gringotts. I need to collect your friends as well."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked, as she stepped back out in her more normal, but still nice, robes.

"Oui. It is best not to be late for a meeting with Ragnok."

"Okay," Ginny agreed, handing over a bag of money from their previous trip to Gringotts. "I'll get some more when we're at the bank, in case that isn't enough. I appreciate it."

They made it to Gringotts early, but it was just as well. Harry was consumed with how to approach Ginny, even though he knew he should be thinking about the meeting.

In truth, he wasn't nearly as excited about it as he had been when he first set it up a few weeks ago. Since then, he had found out the generalities of what his parents' will said from Sirius's journal, as Sirius had been one of the witnesses that signed it. He had even delivered it to the Goblins himself after his parents had gone into hiding.

Even the stories detailed in the journal had given him insight into what to expect. He had heard enough about Potter Manor (which was allegedly still being held in his name), it's layout, and its furnishings that he almost felt like he could picture it, especially given it was visible in the background of numerous pictures that Sirius had included. He knew he could expect to see a lot of the valuables Sirius had mentioned in the vault too.

His previous excitement to see and actually touch things that had a tangible connection to his past, to the family he couldn't ever remember knowing, hadn't abated, but now he was also picturing passing these connections on to the family he hoped to create. He and Ginny had spent countless hours talking about his family's ancestral home, imagining what it looked like and how wonderful it sounded growing up there based on Sirius's stories. Now, he couldn't help picturing the two of them building a life together there too.

His thoughts had been running rampant with idealized fantasies - he hadn't even _talked _to her yet for Merlin's sake - and he found himself grateful when Ragnok appeared to bring them back to his office. The goblin director seemed pleased to find them already waiting when the appointment time came, which Harry took as an indication that the meeting would go well. No sooner had they been seated in the bright office and the greetings completed had Ragnok begun.

"Before we begin addressing the Potter account, there is something I would like to warn you both about in person. Under normal circumstances, a goblin-certified letter would have been delivered to you bearing this information, but the current security provisions on your place of residence prevented that," he said. Both his voice and features looked unpleased, but he made no further comment. "The current Minister of Magic has requisitioned numerous documents from Gringotts, some of which concern the Black account. It should be noted that nothing can be done to prevent the bank from releasing copies to the Ministry under the circumstances."

"Thank you for letting us know, Director," Harry said politely. "We were aware this was a possibility, actually, and were surprised it hadn't happened yet."

"Gringotts has thirty days to process requests such as these under our agreements with your Ministry, though we usually try to release them as soon as possible to avoid prolonging the process," Ragnok said with distaste. "In this case, policy dictated that the documents be withheld until you could be informed, as their release will expose personal information in the form of your bonding. Had this meeting not been scheduled within the thirty day period, Gringotts would have made the effort to send someone to contact you in person."

"We appreciate your respect for our privacy. Please don't let us create any problems for you, though. Feel free to release the documents at any point. We understand," Harry said. He felt awkward trying to keep up the formal interaction, but he held on to the thought that the smoother this meeting went, the faster he could get back to Grimmauld Place and talk with Ginny.

Despite how distracted he had been earlier, a lump still formed in his throat when Ragnok pulled out the original copy of the will. His parents had both handled that document; more than that, they had both created it together, thinking of him as they did it. He knew from the journal that his father had hastily scribbled it in his own hand just before they had gone into hiding under the Fidelius and that both his parents had signed it and marked the parchment with a bloody fingerprint each, not wanting its authenticity to be called into question since they couldn't deliver it to Gringotts themselves.

Harry and Ginny were both given a copy, but he couldn't bring himself to read the actual words. His eyes were glued to the document, studying his father's handwriting. The letters weren't all that similar to his, but the haphazard way they blended together and the slant of the writing was similar enough to his that it had him entranced. Ginny must have noticed, because she placed her copy on the desk and slid closer to him, lending him her strength as she took his hand and read from his copy as well.

He couldn't help wondering if his parents had sat the same way as they wrote it.

Ragnok began to read from the will, offering no surprises. In addition to the trust vault that he was already aware of, his parents had owned Potter Manor (the furnishings of which had been removed and placed in the family vault for safe-keeping when they fled), the cottage in Godric's Hollow, and the large, full family vault itself. They had left him everything, to be held in trust by Sirius - who had been listed as his primary guardian - until he came of age. When they finally reached the end, Harry saw his parents' signatures for the first time.

As with his writing, his father's signature had the same sloppy style as his. His mother's was entirely new to him, though she looped the "y" at the end of her name the same way he did. His chest ached looking at the two signatures that should have been familiar to him had his life not been torn apart by the madman that fancied himself Lord Voldemort.

Ginny's head rested against his shoulder, a silent offer of support. He inhaled deeply, her comforting scent helping to settle him, and turned his attention back to Ragnok who was offering him a quill. He needed to sign the will to acknowledge he had read it and accepted it, as well as several other documents to accept the transfer into his name.

Harry had just finished signing everything and been handed the Potter ring when it occurred to him. "Wait," he said, "why was I the only one signing or getting a Potter ring? Shouldn't Ginny have as well?"

"Miss Black, though your bond-mate, was not bonded to you at the time of your parents' deaths, and is not entitled to anything you acquired before the bonding," Ragnok responded factually. "Nor is she technically a Potter, yet. You are bound by the Black magic, which entitles you to that account, but it does not work in reverse."

"That's ridiculous," Harry said quickly. He knew that as the family of greater status, Ginny was supposed to wear the Black ring as a sign of the betrothal, but if Gringotts considered them married, she should have equal access to what was his. Ragnok's insulted look had him backtracking. "I just mean - not that the policy is ridiculous - just that Ginny and I share all the Black inheritance, and we should share the Potter one too."

"Harry," Ginny interrupted with a hand on his arm, "it's fine. This is your family's legacy - ".

"And I want to share it with you," he said sincerely. "We're a family, Gin. Together, right?"

The look she gave him had his heart speeding up. It was tender and soft, but full of meaning. "You're right." She hesitated briefly, "About the Potter ring though… I don't think I should take that. Everyone will think… well, it means something, you know?" Harry did know - he found it meant a great deal to him that she wear it - but he knew that wasn't what she was getting at. Everyone would assume the engagement was real then. "Even you wearing the Black ring will be a big deal if anyone sees it, but it's been necessary…"

"That is another matter that I had hoped to get to. My readings indicate that the ritual has fully completed and your magic stabilized. There will be no adverse effects if it is removed from this point forward," Ragnok interjected.

Harry wanted to be upset with the interruption, but Ginny suddenly looked so thrilled that he couldn't bring himself to regret it. She was practically beaming as she pulled off Walburga's ring and stuffed it in her pocket, wiggling her now bare hand.

Ragnok let out a displeased sound and almost growled, "While it is no longer necessary that you do so, it is accepted tradition that you wear the ring as representative of the Black family. Goblin crafted rings such as these bear much power and serve as a symbol for your position."

Ginny quickly dropped her exuberance and looked abashed. Harry slipped the Black signet ring from his hand and onto her finger in its place and smiled at her in reassurance. It seemed to give her some confidence back.

She looked contritely at Ragnok. "I'm sorry, Director Ragnok. I meant no offense to the Goblin craftsmanship, nor did I mean to diminish my title. The ring of the previous Lady Black simply brings back some bad memories, and I am very relieved to be able to wear the traditional version instead."

Ragnok still looked displeased and made no move to accept her apology, so Harry cut in, "Can we add Ginny to my accounts, sir? I want to do that."

"It can be done," the goblin said with a sigh. "I will have the documents drawn up in a few minutes," Ragnok said, placing a form he had been filling out in his outgoing tray. "In the meantime, we now have something else to discuss. Would you two like to combine the Black and Potter estates?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. As much as he felt connected to Ginny and wanted her to be a part of his family's legacy, it felt wrong to combine the Black and Potter belongings. Ginny seemed to understand.

"I don't think we need to," she said. "Or that we should. At least not yet. You haven't even seen the Potter vault yet. We should keep it separate at least until you've had a chance to sort it all out."

"I think so too," he agreed. "No, sir. We'll keep it separate for now," he told Ragnok.

"Very well," he replied. To Harry he seemed relieved, and he wondered if the bank profited off service fees if the accounts were separate. He didn't ask though, and Ragnok moved on to the next item on the agenda. "Now, I would advise that you both make a will."

"Mr. Potter, we will make one for the Potter account first, then sign the documents adding Miss Black to your accounts. After which, for expediency, perhaps you would like to visit your vault while Miss Black and I work on the will for the Black account?"

He looked at Ginny to see if she cared. She lifted one shoulder and answered the unasked question. "I really don't mind, and I really would like to be back before dinner. You know how Mum gets."

He smiled and couldn't resist making fun of her a bit. "Sure, you're worried about your Mum and not just plain hungry." She wrinkled her nose at him, but refrained from sticking out her tongue like she normally would. Remembering himself, he turned to Ragnok, "Yes, sir. That works."

"Excellent," the goblin said, though he looked far from amused. "Now…"

Creating the will turned out to be rather simple. Harry simply left everything to Ginny, trusting that she would know how to best make sure the people he loved were taken care of. If Ginny should die before him - he had to admit that his heart rate spiked and his stomach turned as he thought about it - then his estate was to be divided equally amongst all living members of the Weasley family, Hermione, and Remus. Ginny agreed her will would resemble something close to his. It seemed like no time had passed before he was being led out of the room by Griphook and headed down to his family vault in one of the Goblin carts.

He didn't even notice the speed of the cart or the winding tracks as they headed down into the depths of Gringotts. He had unthinkingly leaned down to kiss Ginny on the cheek before leaving the room, and the look of surprise on her face as a blush spread across her cheeks was still fresh in his mind. He didn't know what made him do it, except that the thought that she wasn't gone, the possibility that they could have a future together, made him feel hopeful as well as grateful, and he needed to express it.

When he entered the vault, it was crowded with coins, furniture, and trunks that he assumed were filled with other valuables or heirlooms. He recognized a few pieces of furniture from the pictures Sirius had left him, and found himself drawn to them. One particular loveseat caught his attention and he went and sat in it.

His parents had sat in this chair together, looking young, happy, and desperately in love as they held his infant form between them in one of the photos. In it, his mother's eyes had been practically glued to him, except for a brief moment when she had looked up at his father with wonder and contentment plastered all over her shining face. His father's gaze had shifted back and forth between Harry and his wife, adoration clear there as he leaned in and kissed them both on the head over and over again.

Sitting here where his parents had sat, he felt his longing for a future like that burn brighter. He had always wondered what had possessed his parents to think that having a child with the war on was a good idea - and given his particular role in this war, he couldn't imagine doing it himself - but he had never in his life known the happiness that they did in that one photo.

Everything suddenly clicked into place with perfect clarity. He now knew that one day, after this whole mess with Voldemort was finished - and if Ginny was right and he won - that he absolutely wanted to have what his parents had. And he wanted it with Ginny, if she'd have him. He could see it so clearly, those children he had first envisioned by accident all those weeks ago while listening to Bill.

He stood and left the vault quickly, full of purpose. The things in the vault had been sitting there for well over a decade now and would still be waiting when he came back, hopefully when he could bring Ginny and they could explore it together. Right now, though, Ginny was waiting, and he was finally ready.

Ginny was literally waiting for him, talking to Bill at the top of the ramp when his cart arrived, her red hair shining like a beacon. She spotted him almost immediately as he came into view, her brows lifting in surprise. "That was quick. Was everything alright?"

"Fine," he said, climbing out and heading to her side quickly. He reached out for her hand as soon as she was within range. She accepted it, but he saw a shadow of confusion cross her face. _She'll understand soon_. "We can come back another time, when we can both go. We haven't been through the Black things yet either."

Her face cleared and she smiled a bit. "I agree. I was just saying that to Bill. I really need to take a look, but I wanted to wait for you."

The warmth he always felt around her intensified. _He could do this._ "Yeah," he said smiling. "But let's get back now. It must be getting close to supper by now."

She agreed happily and they followed Bill back to the lobby. Fleur was waiting with the others outside the bank. Harry was relieved that they all seemed to be ready to get back and no one dawdled. It was less than ten minutes later that they were back at the Leaky Cauldron, bidding Neville farewell before returning to Grimmauld Place.

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen with Mr. Weasley having a discussion when they arrived, the dinner preparations clearly having been abandoned at some earlier point. Neither of the Weasley parents seemed upset, however - in fact they seemed mostly pleased - so Harry wasn't worried. More than anything, he was grateful they were preoccupied. He had been bolstering his courage the whole way back from Gringotts and needed to talk to Ginny before his nerves caught up with him.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley immediately turned her attention to the arriving group. "Hello, dears. Did everything go alright?" She smiled at them, but Harry didn't miss the slightly anxious glance she gave Bill and Fleur.

"Everything was fine, Mum. Not a single issue," Bill said in reassurance.

"Oui, Molly," Fleur added. Harry say Molly's face shift for just a moment, but it was quickly covered. Things had gotten better between Mrs. Weasley and Fleur - mostly thanks to Ginny - but there was still some lingering tension. "In fact, we got bought many things. Would you like to see?"

"That sounds lovely, Fleur," she said, "but right now Arthur and I need to talk to Ginny and Harry. Ron, Hermione, perhaps you would be willing to carry the bags upstairs?"

Hermione and Ron both answered in the affirmative, but Fleur cut them off. "I would be happy to do it, Molly. I'm sure these two have their own things to put away," she said serenely. Molly's eye may have twitched, but then she nodded.

When everyone had trailed up the stairs and it was just the four of them seated at the table, Ginny asked a bit anxiously, "What's happened now?" Their hands met beneath the table as they reached for each other simultaneously.

Mrs. Weasley's smile put him at ease a bit, but not enough that he was willing to release his hold on Ginny. There was something in Mr. Weasley's expression that was not as pleased as his wife's. "Nothing bad, Ginny-dear," she said, patting her daughter's other hand from across the table. "Your father has been promoted! Head of the Office for Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects!" she proclaimed happily.

Mr. Weasley sighed beside her. "Molly, it's not that impressive." She tried to interrupt but he continued, "Scrimgeour is looking to bring us closer to the fold. Yes, they need this department and all hands on deck - people are frightened and being taken advantage of by those who are claiming to offer them protection - but he also wants to keep me close, as he knows how close we are to Harry. He's even offered Ministry protection for the Burrow."

"Did you take it?" Ginny asked curiously.

Her father nodded. "I did. It makes sense to allow it. No harm can come from working with the Minister, at least not as much as could come from making him an enemy."

"Are you sure, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked. "The Burrow is already protected. You don't have to leave your job if you don't want to."

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly at him. "Thank you, Harry. I'm certain the new position is where I need to be right now. There is enough overlap that I should be able to assist with any Muggle-baiting cases while also looking out for predatory sales in the Wizarding community. I may not be an auror, but false protections could get people killed and helping put a stop to that is a job worth doing."

Harry could appreciate the sentiment. Mr. Weasley had always done what he felt was right as far as he knew - something he had instilled in his children as well - and it was no surprise now that he would make the choice to protect those who were most vulnerable now. He also understood his point about the new minister. Making an enemy out of Scrimgeour would just make it more difficult to accomplish anything of value.

The four of them spent a little longer discussing the pros and cons of returning to the Burrow, but Harry was mostly preoccupied during that time. His determination was starting to fade, anxiety and doubt taking its place. It could change everything…

"... right Harry?" Ginny asked, squeezing his hand.

Harry tried to think back to what she had just said, but it was of no use. He just nodded, trusting her judgement and hoping that was the right answer.

"Are you certain you're alright with staying here?" Mr. Weasley asked, providing Harry with the topic of conversation. "I know it must be difficult to be here, for you especially."

"It's fine," Harry assured him. It _was_ hard, but it had gotten easier of late. He felt closer to Sirius here than he ever had before. It wasn't quite _home_ home, but he and Ginny had been slowing turning it into one, clearing out the old fading furniture and replacing as much of it as possible. "No matter what protection the Ministry is offering, it can't be as good as the Fidelius here." He couldn't help casting a glance at Ginny as he added, "Keeping safe is more important than comfort." He looked back at Ginny's father and saw understanding in his eyes.

"I agree," he replied. "It's a bit difficult managing from here, but it's worth it."

The conversation wrapped up quickly after that. Ginny and Harry were thankfully dismissed without being asked to help finish dinner and quickly made their escape. Harry's nerves kept him on edge the entire way up the stairs.

When they entered their room, the bags filled with their purchases were sitting on the bed, no longer shrunken for transport. Fleur seemed to have arranged them so that Harry's things were on one side and Ginny's on the other, but what caught his attention was the dress hanging on the bedpost. It was the same one Ginny had insisted was not worth purchasing earlier. It drew Ginny's attention as well.

"I can't believe she bought it anyway." She shook her head in annoyance as she trailed a finger down it. "It's beautiful, of course, but completely unnecessary. I have absolutely no use for such a thing."

Harry, unable to help himself, copied her action, lifting the hem and enjoying how the fabric slid through his fingers. It was cold now, but his imagination was running wild with the thought of how it would feel as her heat leaked through it with his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Let's go on a date," he blurted without thought, the fantasy he had earlier when he first saw her in the dress now playing in his mind once more.

She pulled back as if he's slapped her. "Excuse me? _What_?"

He wanted to curse his stupidity, but he couldn't take it back now. The shuttered, suspicious look on her face had anxiety clawing at his chest. He grabbed her hand to hold her there for fear she'd run away. Until this moment, he hadn't realized that for weeks now he'd been using the gesture to wordlessly say, "_I'm here. I'm with you. Stay with me._" It was exactly what he needed her to know right now. He had to make her understand.

"I mean it, Gin. Go on a date with me. A real date, somewhere you can wear the dress." He tried to joke to cover his nerves, "I've never been on a fancy date before - I'll probably be awkward and awful, but you'll still get a laugh."

She eyed him shrewdly, "Harry, I told you I didn't want to do all that." She shook her head. "I'm sorry this happened, but I'm not going to go out with you just because you feel like you have to, or because I'm your only option - "

She tried to pull back during her response, but he held her hand firmly to his chest. His pounding heart must have been obvious, but he was far too focused on making her understand to be worried about his nerves showing.

"No," he said shaking his head for emphasis. "That's not it _at all_. I wouldn't even consider dating anyone with… everything," he said lamely. He continued earnestly, his voice becoming tinged with desperation, "But I don't want you to say yes just because I'm _your _only option either. I… I can't imagine being interested in anyone else, bond or not. But I know it's different for you. That you had options, that you weren't interested in me anymore..." he trailed off as she let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh or a sound of annoyance and pulled her hand out of his grasp. The small space between them felt more like a wide valley he may tumble into.

"Harry," she said, her shoulders dropping as she shook her head again. His stomach plummeted at the dismissive gesture. When she looked up though, the look in her eyes wasn't pitying, but rather exasperated. "I've never _not_ been interested in you. You just weren't an option." She waved her hand in a frustrated way and turned to pace the room, but Harry caught it and pulled her into him.

Relief swelled so great that he wasn't sure his feet were still planted. He might as well have been floating for how light he felt, but that didn't matter, because as soon as she was close enough, he cupped her face and pulled her lips to his.

It was blissful oblivion.

Nothing existed except for Ginny. She was warm and alive as ever tucked against him, their bodies perfectly aligned with her head tilted back as their mouths slid over one another. Her lips were smooth and sent a tingling sensation through him that increased with the amount of pressure. Harry was convinced he could happily stay like this forever.

He didn't think the feeling could get any better, until her fingers were tangling in his shirt and pulling him and the kiss deepened. Her breath now mingled with his, the taste of her so close that he couldn't hold back from slipping his tongue forward to try and catch it, a moan that could have belonged to either of them sounded when his found hers. He wanted to sink into the sound - his body pressing hers more firmly to his and his tongue following a mindless command to do it again, just so he could continue to hear it.

Sense returned when he felt her grip slacken and she was pushing at him instead of pulling. He immediately dropped his hands and pulled back. The throbbing he felt in his lower region highlighted that she had just been firmly up against it while he'd been snogging her, without permission. His face burned and he had to force himself to look at her.

She breathed heavily, the rise and fall of her chest the only concession to her straight-backed posture as she faced him. Her face was flushed as well, but not from embarrassment. Though she was looking at him through slightly narrowed eyes, he could still see they were bright with excitement and the pupils wide. She seemed to be emanating light, her mussed up hair - it saddened him that he couldn't recall if he had done it himself - forming a fiery halo around her head that intensified the impression. He was certain she had never looked more beautiful.

"_Harry_," she said. The tone in her voice did nothing to appease the ache he felt. She sounded as swept away and needy as he was feeling. Her voice took on a hint of wonder, "That was…" She trailed off and shook her head, before blowing out a deep breath and trying again. "Harry, we need to talk about this. We're - you and I - we can't just _do _this. This isn't - we're not two normal kids. You can't just kiss me like that if you're not sure, because I'm not someone you can just decide to walk away from if it doesn't work out."

"That was...?" he asked. A smile had started spreading across his face without his consent, and he took a step closer to her, relieved that she didn't back up even though she maintained her suspicious gaze. "Okay?" he pressed, as he slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around hers. She looked down and huffed a laugh. "Good?" he continued, as he gently closed the gap between them and brought their faces close enough for their lips to meet once more.

Ginny allowed his nonsense, her cheek even lifted up into a reluctant smile at one point. The smile fell and she pulled her head back when his nose brushed hers. "_Harry_," she said again, though this time in warning.

He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. Not in a way that indicated he was pressing for more, just enough so that he didn't have to see her expression clearly. He hoped she wouldn't be able to see his either.

He didn't _want_ to talk. He bungled everything up whenever he tried, but he knew he needed to. This was important to her. Hell, it was important to him, which is why he was reluctant to fuck it up.

"Gin," he began. His hand lifted on its own volition and tucked a tress of her multihued hair behind her ear, twirling it as it slipped between his fingers. The action, something both new and familiar filled him with a sense of contentment. It gave him the courage to continue, "You're the option I want, and I'm an option, if you want that, but _only _if you want it."

Hope slowly seemed to bloom on her face before the shuttered look returned. "I don't know, Harry. It's just- are you absolutely sure it's not the bonding?"

"Yes." Harry stated unequivocally. "You're beautiful and smart… and actually charming, unlike me, and funny. You not only love Quidditch but are damn good at it. And you're compassionate. You _care_. You love and miss Sirius as much as I do. You were there for me this summer and _always_ have been, even when I didn't realize it." He took a deep breath, surprised by the torrent of words that he had just unleashed. "Even if the betrothal hadn't happened… even I couldn't be thick enough to miss all those things that make you brilliant."

She was biting her lip now, but her wide eyes shone with a hope that made him want to talk now. He wanted - needed - her to know how much this meant to him. He knew it was important that she understood.

He still had to force down his nerves and his voice was quiet as he elaborated, "When I think of you... Gin, it's like the future. And that's so... I can't even tell you. It's _huge_. I've never looked too far forward… life has always just been about surviving through until next time, and you... well, I want to live. With you. And a family- well, if you wanted, in the future maybe... Damn it! This isn't coming out - "

But he never had to explain all the ways in which he was inadequately explaining himself, because Ginny's hands were now in his hair, pulling him securely into her and he was once more lost in the blissful oblivion that was her. No sun penetrated the dark curtains of the room, but Harry felt a glowing warmth that felt like he and Ginny had been standing in its rays for several days by the time they pulled apart. After a moment of heavy breathing and shared air, she smiled at him widely.

"Okay," she said simply.

His eyes were lingering on her swollen lips and the taste of her still lingered on his tongue, distracting him. It took a moment for the word to sink in. He pulled back quickly and stared at her. "Okay?" he asked. "As in, you'll go out with me?"

She still looked slightly nervous, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, but the hope was stronger than before. She released the lip to say, "Yeah. I'll go out with you."

The smile that broke out across his face hurt his cheeks, but he fought it down before leaning in to kiss her again.


	21. Interlude

**This is a short interlude, I realize. Chapter 19 isn't that long either, but 20 and 21 are long and 22 is shaping up to be as well. Forgive me!**

Albus Dumbledore dressed tiredly that day, dreading the meeting that the morning's post had made inevitable.

He had been avoiding the minister as of late. Of course he hadspoken to Rufus Scrimgeour when the man first gained became Minister. Albeit, not immediately - something the man seemed to take great offense from - but he'd had more pressing matters to deal with at the time. The pain in his hand as he went through his morning tasks was a stark reminder of that. He had just been rather busy as of late… there was so much to be done now that Voldemort was no longer operating from the shadows.

It was both a blessing and a curse. With the truth that Voldemort had returned now being recognized, he had his former standing in society returned, enabling him to accomplish his many duties with much more ease. It also meant that the Ministry and the greater public were now properly on guard. However, Voldemort was no longer limited by the need for secrecy. His methods of cultivating fear and submission through open terroristic attacks, something he had been widely known for during his first rise to power, had resumed with alarming speed. In the few short weeks since the end of term, Amelia Bones, Emmeline Vance, and countless others had all lost their lives.

As a result of his renewed status and all that was changing, Albus found himself constantly in the presence of others - offering condolences, providing the Ministry with insight into what Voldemort's next move may be and how to counteract it, as well as continuing to organize his own resistance with the Order. It had left him precious little time to tend to his own carefully laid plans - plans that for all intents and purposes might as well have been torn to shreds and burned to ash in the past two weeks - let alone to meet with the Minister solely to deny the man access to Harry.

Albus knew he had done the boy many injustices over the years - beginning with his decision to allow the greater good to supercede the individual, but most recently simply out of love for the man Harry had yet to fully become - but he would not subject Harry to being used to further the Minister's political agenda. Though Scrimgeour had better intentions toward Harry than Cornelius Fudge had ever had, the only thing that took precedence over Harry's autonomy was his safety and the defeat of Voldemort. As much as it pained both Albus and Harry, he knew they were in agreement on those two points.

None-the-less, a picture of Harry looking nervous while Ginny smiled at Bill as they all entered Gringotts stared up at him from the front page of _Witch Weekly, _the headline "The Chosen One's Choice - Or Lack There Of", in addition to the front page of _The Daily Prophet _proclaiming Sirius Black's innocence made it necessary that he find the time to meet with Scrimgeour this morning. The man needed to know in no uncertain terms that Harry would not be a poster boy for the Ministry, no matter that Harry was now considered an adult and technically able to decide for himself. With one last sigh and wince at the pain in his injured hand, he waved his wand to summing the floo powder before making his way to the Ministry.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Minister immediately allowed him into the office without question when he arrived. Percy Weasley, looking chastened but proud, exited the office as Albus entered. The Minister's angry voice followed the young man out the door, "We're not done, Weasley. Wait outside until I have finished this meeting."

To his credit, Percy did not flinch under the disappointment of his superior as he once would have. The boy he had been at Hogwarts was always so eager to please that he could be prone to forgetting that there were other things that mattered. Unearned pride swelled in Albus to see that boy had learned quite the lesson in the last year - he was finally becoming his own man. Molly would certainly be proud to see the changes he had undergone since the last time she saw her son. Albus offered the young man a smile before closing the door between them.

"It's about time, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour said at once, his tone brusque.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, Minister," he replied affably, taking his seat leisurely. There was nothing to be gained by either of them getting riled just yet. "Busy, dangerous times these are. I'm sure a man in your own position can understand that. Cleaning up the disaster this last year has left has not been easy for either of us, I imagine." He had learned over the years how to get to the heart of the matter without having to offer one's own opinion.

The Minister let out an oath. "Fudge was a bleeding fool. Cleaning up this disaster will be near impossible." He sent Dumbledore a pointed look as he continued, "but it would be much easier if 'The Chosen One' was willing to aid our effort."

"I wouldn't think a boy of not yet sixteen could do a better job of it than you, Minister," he replied lightly.

"Do not toy with me, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour replied angrily. "You and I both know how this works. The public believes what it wants to believe and nothing more. Last year, they wanted to believe that they were safe and were willing to destroy your name to do it. Right now, they want to believe that the boy who last vanquished Voldemort as an infant and claims to have survived him once more could do it again as a near man."

"Our society needs hope and security, yes. They should be able to find that with the Ministry under your leadership." It was a half-true statement. The Ministry was far more competent under Scrimgeour than it had been, but the government alone was not enough to stand against the likes of Voldemort, and everyone knew it.

"The Ministry is not mine to lead, not yet. Interim Minister does not allow me to make the changes that need to be made to ensure our continued success. I _need_ the approval of the Wizengamot to do that. Mr. Potter's support would go a long way in making that a reality," Scrimgeour said pointedly.

"And if Harry supports another candidate?" Albus asked, truly curious.

His eyes narrowed briefly before clearing. "While it would not be helpful to me in particular, a good relationship between the Minister and the savior of our society can only prove to be mutually beneficial. The Ministry needs that kind of public support if we are going to win this war, and there is much Mr. Potter stands to gain from us."

"Is that what your pardon of Sirius Black was? And your refusal to comment on Harry himself in this morning's article?" He questioned. "Was it meant to be an establishment of good faith?"

"My prior assistant may have been estranged from his family for quite some time, but he is still familiar with Mr. Potter. Though he did not know him personally, he made it very clear that Sirius Black was trusted and loved by both Harry Potter and the Weasley family." In a tone that was both certain and full of distaste he added, "It never hurts to show respect for those important to an ally. The friend of my friend and all that drivel."

Albus shook his head sadly. "You yourself have never been one to favor political games, Minister, and neither is Harry. I'm afraid you know nothing of him if you believe he will be swayed by your offers or political plays."

The Minister's expression hardened. "I believe Mr. Potter should be allowed to speak for himself in this matter, seeing as he is an adult. What I need from you is to tell me how to reach him, and perhaps a gentle suggestion that he comply."

"I'm afraid I cannot help you in this matter, Minister." He let his own feelings show as he continued in a strong tone, "As we have already discussed at great length, Harry Potter is not yours - nor is he mine - to command or use."

Scrimgeour scoffed and sat back in his chair with a frustrated movement. They had already had this discussion several times, never ending in the Minister's favor. "And I have told you that I do not believe that you have no influence over him."

Albus let out a chuckle. He was not, in fact, pleased with the turn his relationship with Harry had taken, but there was bitter amusement to be found in just how wrong the Minister was. "I am afraid to inform you that while that may have once been true, I no longer hold the position of Harry's counsel. You are barking up the wrong tree, as the muggles say."

The Minister retained his irritated demeanor as he lifted his copy of the _Witch Weekly_. "I find it difficult to put any stock in a rag such as this. I'm more inclined to believe the opposite, in fact, given their source," a disgusted look came across his face as he mentioned Mrs. Malfoy. It cleared and turned to one of calculation as he asked, "So is it her I should be speaking with? The Weasley girl?"

Albus actually did smile now, the thought of Scrimgeour trying to make any progress with Ginevra calling to mind several interesting, if not outright laughable, scenarios. Genially, he replied, "That I cannot say, Minister. However, if my own interactions with Miss Black are anything to go by, I would advise you that trying to sway her in any way should be rather like trying to trim a Whomping Willow."

She certainly had not held any punches when she invited him to look into her mind. She had held nothing back and allowed all the accusations she refused to voice in front of Harry flow freely through the unspoken connection that Legillimancy allowed. Even when she felt his own regret and sadness, she had not softened her stance in the slightest. It was something Albus respected, in all honesty. The betrothal had thrown many of his plans into ruin, yet he found himself rather pleased to see that Harry had gained a champion who loved him so fiercely.

"Interesting," he said thoughtfully. Albus expected the Minister to press the matter, but his gaze turned calculating instead. Dumbledore sensed he was about to use his position to his favor. The manner in which he steepled his fingers and leaned forward on his elbows only confirmed the suspicion.

"Tell me, Headmaster, have you managed to fill all the open positions on your staff?" He asked in a more neutral tone. "My predecessor made many mistakes, but his legislation still stands. If you have not yet handled the staffing situation by the first of August, it falls to me to do so."

"I'm quite certain that will not be necessary, Rufus, though I thank you for keeping Hogwarts in mind." Scrimgeour was not the enemy that Fudge had been. He would not do anything to hurt the school or the students, and therefore the credibility of the Ministry, but he certainly would play whatever advantages he had to try and gain access to Harry. Having one of Scrimgeour's people at the school would make it difficult for him to do the things with Harry that needed to be done. As much as it displeased him, he would need to work on Slughorn today. "Alas, I best be off. Much to do, as I'm sure you have as well."

The Minister nodded, but his gaze was sharp with the schemes he was building. Albus rather hoped all would go well with Horace today and that he would not need to deal with any of them.

Rather, he hoped all would go well with Harry and Ginny, as he knew Horace, in all his greed, would not be able to resist the lure of cultivating Harry Potter for his collection once he had met him. Getting away from the young couple without having to give away any information would be the trickiest part of his day, he was sure.

He fully intended to tell Harry the truth, as he had promised, but he had hoped to allow the boy just one more birthday, one that he could spend happily in the presence of loved ones. The truth of Harry's destiny was a crushing weight to bear, especially for one so young, and Albus was not yet ready to face it.

Now was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts however, and he took his leave. At the last moment Scrimgeour added, "Take my assistant with you. Perhaps the boy will learn from his mistake and prove he can actually be of use to me."

XXXXXXXXX

Percy Weasley was waiting patiently, if a bit nervously, when Albus came upon him. The man looked visibly concerned at Albus' approach, though he tried to smile to put him at ease.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley. It appears you have been relieved of your duties for the day." He gave him an understanding look. "The Minister seems to be rather displeased with both of us. His upset with me is rather predictable, but it is surprising that you have disappointed him. As I recall, you were always very competent in any position entrusted to you."

Percy flushed, but straightened his shoulders. "I did what I should have done all along - I chose to protect my family over my career."

"Doing what is right hardly ever is paid in rewards, perhaps except for the peace we give ourselves in doing so." Albus surreptitiously glanced around the room and saw the receptionist listening attentively. "Perhaps you would like to join me in taking a stroll through London. There are some things we should discuss and stretching one's legs is never a bad idea."

The younger man had been glancing in the direction of the receptionist as well and nodded. "A walk sounds reasonable, seeing as I have nowhere else to be."

The walk to the lifts was spent quietly discussing nonsense about the work Scrimgeour had begun on remodeling the Atrium. Percy described in great detail how the destruction wrought by between Albus and Voldemort was unable to be repaired magically and had required all new fixtures to be made. His voice remained level, but he cast a frustrated glance at seemingly nothing in the corner of the lift as he continued to speak. Albus knew what he was looking at the place was where the auror office had placed the charm that recorded all conversations had within the lift - it had been done under his suggestion after all - in an attempt to root out whom in the Ministry was working with known Death Eaters. A casual flick of his wand and the monitor was encased in a white cloud, causing Percy to send him an incredulous look.

"What are you doing? They'll send someone immediately," he began, before Albus cut in calmly.

"According to our dear listeners, I am now having a coughing fit while you summon me some water. The whole affair should last about two minutes, if there is anything you would like to say without an audience," he informed him.

The confusion cleared immediately. "I've been monitored for quite some time, since before last Christmas even," he said quickly. "My outgoing mail for one thing, but also tracking charms, listening charms… some dating back to Fudge, possibly Umbridge as well, and I would not be surprised to find the current Minister has added some of his own, given how quickly he discerned I was the one to hide the filing notification for Ginny and Harry's betrothal."

"You are not without the skill to remove them surely, so I assume you kept them in place to allay suspicion? To what end were you working?" Albus questioned.

Percy shifted guiltily for the first time. "At first, I supposed it didn't matter. I was loyal to Minister Fudge. I believed in what we were doing. There was nothing to hide." His confidence returned and he straightened. "After that, I knew that You-Know-Who had returned and there were more important things to contend with. Once I heard from Ginny, I realized keeping my position and using it to do good was more important than privacy." He looked down at himself and cast a revealing spell, several lights of various colors and strengths appearing. "Though now, it seems that no longer matters." With another flick of his wand, they all disappeared.

Albus smiled. Percy Weasley had not been the top of his class or received Head Boy simply because he could follow orders, but rather because of a dedication to learning and growth, along with a respect for authority and rules, that made him exceedingly talented and reliable. Aside from demonstrating his skill, it was also a clear statement of loyalty. Eliminating the sensors was tantamount to signing his own dismissal paperwork. Still, Albus was curious.

As they stepped off the lift and out onto the muggle street, Albus cast a Notice-Me-Not charm over both of them. He asked without judgement, "Why make a stand now? You were in the Atrium the night that Voldemort was revealed to the world, you work in the same building as your father, and certainly know where to find your brothers… yet, you have made no attempt to reach out to them and offer assistance. What has motivated this change?"

"Ginny asked," he said simply.

Albus nodded but made no verbal response, taking in the surroundings they passed stoically, aware that silence could be the best encouragement to speak in some cases.

It was only a few paces later that Percy explained further. "She didn't say anything about my abandonment or what a fool I was… she just asked me for my help." His voice was pained as he continued, "Ginny hasn't asked me for anything in years. Not since her first year when she came to me for help and I yelled at her for walking in on Penelope and I. I realized not helping her now would be repeating that mistake." With a pained honesty he admitted, "I let my ambition get in the way and let her down that day, and then again when I interrupted her when she went to Ron and Harry. She never once outright blamed me for it, but she never again asked me for anything else either. The fact that she came to me now, after everything I had done, when she had no reason to trust me… it meant whatever reason she had for hiding the betrothal was more important than anything else. If I accomplish nothing else, at least I know I didn't continue to let them down. I did at least one good thing for her."

"It is quite wise of you to learn such a lesson so young. Far too often we take the easy way out and avoid such truths rather than admit our own folly," Albus replied, intentionally including himself in the statement. He had done the same, until the path he had put himself on had ended in the ultimate tragedy. Percy Weasley had thankfully learned the lesson before the damage had become irreparable. "From your earlier actions, I assume it is your intent to begin righting the wrongs you have committed, yes?"

Percy swallowed nervously, but nodded. "I - I want to fix things with my family, and I want to help you in any way I can."

By the end of the statement, his nerves had fled, chin held high with determination. Albus himself hadn't needed to hear the words, but rather felt the man needed the opportunity to say it for himself.

Albus placed his hand on Percy's shoulder and turned him toward the muggle homes they had stopped at. "I'm glad to hear it, my boy, and happy to welcome you to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and home of your sister."


	22. Chapter 19

**A/N: This chapter wouldn't have gone up tonight without Luke. We all owe him a thank you. Love you Luke!**

Ginny woke up deliriously happy.

Harry was wrapped around her from behind, his arms keeping her tucked tight in his embrace and his face buried in her hair, his breath tickling her neck with every exhale. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was the first time she knew for certain that it meant something.

_Harry kissed me!_

The stupid, childish thought would not relent. What was worse, she didn't care to try to stop it. As many times over the years that she had tried to deny it or push it away, the truth was that kissing Harry was something she had been dreaming about for a very long time. It was even better than she imagined.

Even the fact that the news of the betrothal was likely to be splattered all over the front page of the Prophet today couldn't diminish her enthusiasm. It was almost inevitable after the letter Percy had sent last night to let them know that the Minister now knew and also suspected a leak at the Ministry. Her mood was such that instead of it bringing her down, she idly wondered if they had managed to find a decent picture of them.

Her mother and father had looked worried at the news, but Harry hadn't seemed to care any more than Ginny had. They both knew it was bound to happen eventually and were too happy to give it much attention.

By unspoken agreement, neither had said anything about the change in their relationship. Though the sidelong glances he kept sending her were far too happy looking to be inconspicuous, and likely clued in the most observant at the table.

Ginny reveled in the way his expression made her feel. The bright, warm feeling was intensified by the way their legs touched beneath the table throughout the entire meal and how he kept twirling the ends of her hair behind her back whenever he thought they could get away with it.

Even the knowing look Fleur sent her and her mother's reminder to keep the door open that night couldn't take away from the feeling that they were standing in direct sunlight after spending weeks locked away in a dark place. The feeling didn't fade, following her into her dreams as she fell asleep with her head on Harry's chest, the beating of his heart both warm and comforting.

Harry stirred behind her now, his arm wrapping more firmly around her waist as his nose nuzzled her neck with purpose. "Gin," he said, his voice thick from sleep.

Ginny smiled to herself, remembering a similar incident several weeks ago. She had written it off at the time, but given last night, she now knew it had meant something. He had been thinking about her even then. The thought overwhelmed her with excitement and she twisted in his grasp to face him, planting her lips on his without warning.

He inhaled quickly in surprise at her sudden movement, but immediately responded. The enthusiasm he put into the action rivaled her own and she couldn't stop herself from deepening it.

It was warm and intoxicating - minute details such as morning breath and knotted hair completely beyond her notice - and ignited a tingling fire in the valley between her hips that spread down. The sensation began as something close to anxiety, but was more thrilling and anticipatory than anything. She reluctantly pulled back before she could get carried away by the urge to do something about it.

"Good morning," she said through a smile.

It was with a dazed expression that he replied, "Yeah." When she laughed, a happy contented sound, he seemed to snap out of it and added, "A really good morning, actually." A quick flare a panic flashed across his face and he rolled away, grabbing his glasses off the bedside table and leaving some distance between them.

It wasn't until he had pulled away that Ginny realized the throbbing between her legs had not been entirely her own and that her hardened nipples were visible through the old shirt she wore. She quickly pulled the blanket more securely over her before he could turn back around. By the time he had put his glasses on, she was fully covered but red in the face.

It was with relief that she saw his cheeks were bright too as he looked at her with a sheepish smile. "Hi," he said, sounding embarrassed.

His nerves settled her own. Smiling fully, she replied, "Hi." Very carefully, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips. After pulling back, she added, "I agree. A really good morning." She paused then, looking at the still dark room. "At least, I think it's actually morning. I mean, I feel wide awake, so I'm assuming it is, but I don't think I've heard Mum moving around yet."

Harry's laughter had her cutting off. She realized now that she had begun to ramble, the nervous excitement she felt needing an outlet. It wasn't embarrassment that made her cut off, but happiness - Harry's laugh was more light and contented than she had ever heard it - and she didn't want to miss any of it. She considered herself lucky to have allowed herself to be childish and happy for those few private hours before the rest of the world intruded upon their day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first article to arrive, and really the most interesting to them, was on the cover of _The Daily Prophet_. Minister Scrimgeour must have been trying to gain favor with Harry, because it was a complete retracement of everything the Ministry had said about Sirius Black since 1981. It didn't discuss Harry directly, but elevated Sirius to hero status in his crusade to protect his godson. It was far too little too late, but one look from Harry and Ginny knew it had comforted them both to see the truth about someone they both loved so greatly out in the open.

The second article - the one more likely to gain popularity because of its salacious nature - arrived on the cover of _Witch Weekly._ Featuring heavy quoting from Narcissa Malfoy, it proclaimed that Ginny, and her parents as well, were gold-digging manipulators who had hoodwinked her weak and damaged cousin into signing over not only his fortune, but his godson through the use of dark magic. That was just what Narcissa has _said_, all under the guise of lamenting Harry's fate, but the subtext was even worse.

"The circumstances surrounding Mr. Black's escape from Azkaban and his subsequent state of mind are unclear. What is clear, however, is that he did not return to his own family, but instead became acquainted with Miss Black (née Weasley). One has to wonder what kind of relationship developed between the man and the pretty young woman to convince him to forsake his living relatives and bequeath the substantial Black fortune and family to a girl he hardly knew," quoted Harry, the hardness in his expression unmistakable. "You're _fourteen_, as if you would ever - or he would ever - agh." He shoved the paper away viciously.

Ginny herself was rather unhappy with the words that had been printed slandering her character, but being angry right now was far less important than calming Harry down. She remembered that feeling well, when the papers had been tearing Harry's character to shreds last year, or even before that when Rita Skeeter was printing such obvious lies about him just to sell papers, and knew how easy it was to be carried away by righteous anger in defense of someone you loved. _Not_ that she thought Harry loved her, she reminded herself, but the same principle applied. Especially if he thought he was to blame.

"None of this matters," she said reassuringly. "It's nothing you haven't been through before. It will pass, you know that."

His livid eyes met hers, "Yeah, I have, which is how I know people are awful and cruel and will believe this shit." He crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire, watching it burn with an anger that was disturbing. "She knew she couldn't get any of the money, so she settled for trying to ruin you," he said darkly.

Ginny shrugged, sitting back and deciding it was best just to let him brood. She would only get annoyed if he kept rebuffing her attempts to cheer him up. "Yeah, well, we have bigger things to worry about right now. It's not like I haven't experienced people saying horrible things about me before. At least this time, I know none of it is true," she said honestly.

His eyes shot to hers, guilt there. She could tell he hadn't known what people had been saying about her during her second year. She shook her head, wordlessly telling him not to apologize.

He gave her an understanding smile, though his expression didn't fully clear. "It just seems like it won't be wise to be in public for a bit, and I had thought - I mean, I _wanted_ to go..." he blew out a breath before continuing, "I thought we could… do something, you know, for my birthday," he said, sounding less frustrated and more uncertain now.

The mention of their potential date inflated her mood. Teasingly, she said, "Don't tell me you've already forgotten what I told you?" At his quizzical expression she explained, "Anything is possible if you've got enough nerve."

She felt lucky that he laughed and she chuckled too. For a moment, she had worried it was the wrong choice of words, bringing up Sirius like that, but it didn't hurt as much this time. Probably because she was certain he would have approved.

"You're right," he said softly.

"I know," she said simply, winking at him to let him know she wasn't serious. Placing a reassuring hand on his and leaning in, she added, "I'm looking forward to it too, Harry. We'll think of something."

"Good," he replied, his voice lowering as he looked around the empty kitchen. Their solitude confirmed, he leaned in and kissed her softly. Despite it having been less than a day, Ginny had lost count of how many times they'd done that. The action already felt familiar, and yet no less exciting than the first time. She was sorely tempted to lose herself in it - any potential family members who may walk in be damned - but the floo flared and the kitchen door opened at nearly the same time, and she was forced to pull back quickly.

Percy was standing there in the doorway, looking completely shocked at his surroundings. She and Harry had been working on fixing things around the place - Kreacher had been much more compliant about removing the unsightly aspects of the house recently and they had been replacing things slowly - but she knew it still wasn't a very nice place to be. His appalled expression almost made her laugh.

Harry's sudden rise to his feet pulled her attention however. He was smiling and greeting Remus Lupin, who had just arrived via floo, happily. His excitement both warm her and ignited a flare of resentment toward her former professor for his absence. Deciding it was best to allow them some time together, she turned back to her brother and Professor Dumbledore.

She turned to Dumbledore first. His expression was both knowing and pleased. She was sure hers just bordered on civil. "Hello, Headmaster." Her tone was polite, if a little distant. She had expected to see him much sooner than this.

"Good morning, Miss Black," he replied pleasantly. "I hope you do not mind that I have allowed your brother in on the secret. He has recently made a change that will leave him with much more free time, and I am certain your mother would prefer that he spend his time here, given his new availability."

Ginny's brow rose slightly at that, glancing at her brother's reddening cheeks. From the sound of it, Percy had lost his job, but rather than looking dejected, he looked proud. Her smile grew more pronounced despite her upset with Dumbledore. "I'm sure you're correct, sir."

Percy's hesitant eyes were now on her, searching for something. She directed her smile to him, meeting his eyes to put him at ease, and pleased to see he relaxed and smiled back nervously. It was true she was upset with him for hurting their family - for essentially spitting on all that they stood for in the name or ambition - but being angry about it wouldn't fix things. If she's learned anything this summer it was being together as a family was more important than everything else. Plus, apologizing wasn't her strong suit either.

Dumbledore drew her attention, "I hope you do not mind the intrusion, dear, but given the recent news, I believe it best I call a quick order meeting. It would be wise to keep everyone up to date."

Ginny grimaced at the implication that their news needed clarifying. _He wants to make sure everyone knows you're not a harlot_. Still, she consented. It was important that their side remain united.

With her agreement, Dumbledore left the kitchen to… well, she didn't know what methods he used to summon the Order, but she assumed he was off to do that. It left her sitting in an awkward silence with Percy. She waited patiently while his jaw worked, beginning and abandoning several attempts to speak, while she kept an eye on Harry chatting eagerly with Professor Lupin. She had several things to say to the man, none of which she wanted to share in front of Harry.

When Harry stood, still speaking rapidly with an excited glint in his eye, she finally turned to her brother. Firmly, but without censure, she said, "Look, Percy, you messed up. We both know that. But you're clearly trying here, and that's what matters." She made sure she had his full attention before continuing, "You have a second chance. Just do better this time. Deal?"

He floundered for a moment, but eventually found his voice. "Yes." He paused and added thoughtfully, "You've grown so much, Ginny."

She barely heard him though, distracted as she watched Harry exit the kitchen in a happy rush. It seemed now was the best opening to talk to Lupin without his presence that Ginny was going to get. With a rushed kiss on her brother's cheek, she excused herself from his presence and made her way to her former professor's side.

Lupin was still watching the door Harry had disappeared through. He looked ragged and exhausted, but there was a fond tilt to his lips. "He seems happy," he said by way of greeting, a bittersweet note in his quiet voice. "I didn't expect him to be in such good spirits, particularly with this," he said gesturing to the paper.

Whatever sympathy his wretched appearance had inspired in her was obliterated by that sentence. "He wasn't two weeks ago," she said. The accusation in her tone was clear as she continued, "Where the hell have you been?"

His expression closed off. Tonelessly, he replied, "I was on a mission for the Order."

"And the Order is more important than Harry?" she shot back. "You must have known he'd be struggling, yet you ran off at the first opportunity." She shook her head and continued with less bitterness, "What were you thinking? You're the last connection he has to them - his parents and Sirius. He needed you."

"I - " he began, but she decided she didn't care to hear it.

"It doesn't matter," she said with finality. "You're here now." Her words were another version of what she had just said to Percy, but she couldn't find it in her to be as gentle with Lupin as she continued, "_Fix it._ I know it's been hard, but as the last Marauder worth a damn, it's your responsibility now to be there for him." She stood to leave, but had another thought. "I think you need him too. There's no reason any of us should be alone in this." As she opened the door, she caught sight of Tonks coming down the stairs and couldn't hold back adding just one more last thing. "Don't forget that there are people who will love you if you just let them."

She left then, heading in search of Harry. She had a feeling he had gone to get _Mischief Managed_ to ask Lupin some questions and would be back any moment, but her nerves were fried between dealing with Percy, Lupin, and Dumbledore - three men she respected in various ways, but that she couldn't help feeling disappointed with as well. A few quiet minutes with Harry to gather her thoughts sounded like the perfect antidote to her stress. Being with him was just… comforting. Whenever they were together, there was the ineffable feeling that he was where she was supposed to be.

He ran into her in the doorway to their room, catching her as she stumbled back from the surprise impact. He was a blur of movement and words as he said, "Sorry! I'm glad you're here. I wanted to grab a few things, but the box is locked." The words were so rushed that it took a minute for her to parse out their meaning, during which time he had already pressed her charm to the lock and popped the box open.

"No!" she said, hurriedly reaching for it. She had quickly put his present in there while he was in the bathroom last night, but she hadn't had time to move it to the bottom yet. _One day! I just wanted to keep it out of sight for one day,_ she thought as she tried to grab the box from his hands. Her frustration made her clumsy though, and it fell to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere.

She groaned in frustration. The picture she had found, along with the letter from Harry's mother, had been the first item to hit the ground and she heard it as the glass shattered. A quick _Reparo _would fix it, but he'd no doubt see it in the mess. Their collections of letters were luckily tied and hadn't spread about in a mess, and their individual boxes hadn't open either. What had caught Harry's attention - and hers now too - was a small jewellery bag that she hadn't known was in there until now. It was attached to a letter with Harry's name on it.

Harry didn't speak. He simply reached down with a cautious hand to grab the unexpected bundle, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. With a few quick flicks of her wand, the mess was organized into piles and the damage repaired. Just as quietly, she joined him.

"If it were something good, he would have put it with the rest, right?" He asked softly.

She bit her lip. It did seem strange that it wasn't with his other things, but the Black rings had been with Harry's things. What kind of jewelry would Sirius have left him that could be worse than that. Unless…

Excited she remembered, "I knocked it over. Remember, I told you? Everything spilled and I didn't want to go through your things, so I just blindly put it all back in… I probably just missed it."

Harry exhaled in relief beside her. "Okay," he said, pulling the parchment free from the bag. He hesitated, looking between the two, before unrolling the parchment first. Leaning closer, he angled it so that she could see without her having to ask. She had barely finished the first line before he was pushing the parchment toward her and opening the smaller bag.

Three rings were inside, clearly a matched wedding set for both a man and a woman. Harry looked at them with an intense expression. It wasn't quite greedy, but he was clearly soaking up every detail. Ginny was too, but she was simply caught by how beautiful they were.

The gold rings were clearly goblin made, inlaid with sapphire and diamonds in intricate patterns that resembled stars in the night sky. There was some sort of bird of prey on the man's ring, and it struck her that she - and Harry too, she was sure - knew nothing about Euphemia before she became Lady Potter. This gift was more than just an heirloom, but also a guide.

She let him take his time, offering support with her presence, but not interrupting his thoughts. These weren't things he should have to wonder about - he should have had family to tell them - but there was nothing she could do or say to change it or make it better right now. After a few minutes, he was ready to move on and they resumed reading.

_These rings belonged to your grandmother Euphemia's family. She was the last of her family line as well, her brothers having lost their lives during the war with Grindelwald. As the wife of Fleamont, the only remaining Potter, she was expected to wear his ring, but she held onto these so fiercely that I could scarcely believe it the day your parents were married when she sat me down and handed them to me. _

_She said that she had never been able to bear a second child, but she had "been blessed with one" in me. It was her hope that when I found someone to love the way your father loved Lily, that I would use these rings to express that devotion and pass them down to my own children._

_I never found that one, kiddo. You were the closest thing I ever had or wanted to my own child, and I love you as if you were, the same way your grandparents loved me. These are special, Harry. They mean something to me, just as they meant something to your grandmother, and they are only to be used when it really means something. I truly hope you get that chance._

The writing continued on another sheet, but Harry made no move to look at the next page. His focus had gone back to the three rings lined up in the palm of his open hand.

"Sirius told me that my dad's parents had taken him in, that he and Dad were like brothers… but I never knew that they really loved him like that." He paused before continuing in a mystified tone, "I didn't know that was possible… that people could really love another's child like their own."

Conflict raged through her. There was a fire burning, one that demanded she repay all the pain and neglect Harry's relatives had bestowed upon him over the years, but there was also heartbreak that he had never felt like someone could love him the way his parents would have. Her desire to comfort won out.

"Yes, they did. Just like Mum and Dad love you," she said gently, rubbing his arm. When his only response was a sad smile that let her know he didn't truly believe her, she continued earnestly, "Honest, Harry. Mum has had her brother Fabian's watch set aside for your seventeenth birthday for _years_ now. There aren't many family heirlooms to be had in the Weasley family. That should tell you something."

He looked surprised. She knew he understood the right of passage that receiving a watch was for a wizard's seventeenth, as they had all been together when Fred and George received theirs at the Gryffindor table during breakfast the year before last. He didn't say anything more, but the doubt cleared from his expression.

"I'm glad he had that with them, though. He had it so rough as a kid… and then he went to Azkaban and spent the last years of his life on the run…" Harry's voice was quiet and contemplative, as if his mind was actually on something else as he spoke. "He had more years than my parents did, but he didn't get to do anything with it. There are so many things he missed out on."

His gaze lingered on her, the intensity she saw ignited both nerves and desire in her. It should have been too soon for that kind of look. It had been less than a day officially, but it had really been so much longer. With hindsight, she could see that Harry had been looking at her differently for the last month, and at least part of her heart had belonged to him for years, whether she had always admitted it or not.

"Gin," he began, the weight in that single word telling her he had something serious to say. There was also a nervous excitement there that increased her own similar feelings.

It occurred to her that they had been gone longer than anticipated. She wasn't sure when the meeting was going to begin or how long Lupin would stay before running off again. "Later," she said, cutting him off with a kiss on the cheek. "Come on. Let's get that book and go find out how reliable a story-teller Sirius was."

Before she could fully pull away, he pulled her back to him, pressing his lips to hers. It wasn't tentative, nor overly enthusiastic, but there was a tenderness to it that was full of feeling. Ginny's heart raced with it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The kitchen was quite crowded when they reentered it, Order members having arrived in their long absence. Ginny spotted Ron and Hermione at the end of the table, the former eating ravenously, and pulled Harry with her as she made her way over to them. She did her best to ignore some of the looks she was getting from the Order members that didn't know her personally.

Hernione's lips were pursed as she glared at those people, reassuring Ginny that they were not alone. Her friend wasted no words on greeting them, saying loudly, "You'd think after Rita Skeeter and nearly everything published by _The Prophet _over the last year, people would have learned not to trust the press."

Ginny couldn't contain her laugh at the abashed looks of the greatest offenders. "One would think," she said lightly, taking a seat. Warmth spread through her as Harry squeezed in next to her, threaded their fingers under the table. The exchange was not missed by Hermione, who smiled at the couple.

Ron, having finally swallowed, spoke up. "Idiots. The lot of them," he said, sending his own glare. His eyes flicked to Percy across the room, where he was in discussion with Bill and Fleur, though he said nothing about it. He looked back at her and Harry. "Mum said to eat quickly. We're about to be kicked out," he said in annoyance. "I suppose you two will be allowed to stay now?" There wasn't any bitterness, but rather excitement. "You'll tell us everything, right?"

"I'm not sure actually," Harry replied, looking around the room. "I didn't actually talk to Dumbledore. I was talking to Remus. Where did he go anyway?"

Hermione's voice was much quieter than before as she answered, "Tonks was dragging him off last I saw. They looked rather tense, actually."

Ginny bit her lip. She hoped that conversation was going well, for her friend's sake, but Lupin was a stubborn one. He seemed to sabotage his own happiness at every opportunity, not recognizing he wasn't just hurting himself. Still she hoped that maybe her words would have had an effect on him.

Harry looked disappointed, but accepting. He turned to her, "You talked to Dumbledore, right?"

She tilted her head. "Sort of. He didn't say much. Oh," she said, catching the headmaster's eye as he made his way over to them. "Look, he's headed this way now."

"Good morning," he greeted the group. "Hello, Harry. I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to speak this morning. I was rather in a rush to summon everyone for this impromptu meeting."

"It's fine, sir. I was distracted by Lupin," he looked a bit embarrassed to have completely ignore the headmaster in favor of his father's old friend. "It's been some time since I've seen him."

"That's quite alright, Harry. One can never spend too much time in good company, particularly in such uncertain times," he said, his demeanor both understanding and sad. Harry's expression clouded and Ginny squeezed his hand below the table. It was a lesson they had both learned too well. He continued, "Unfortunately, I must rob you of some of that time today. After speaking with the Minister this morning, I believe it would be best we seek out my friend Horace Slughorn today."

"Is that all you'll be needing us for today?" Ginny asked through narrowed eyes. She couldn't shake the feeling that he had been intentionally avoiding them. Hermione kicked her below the table and she softened the accusatory tone, tacking on, "Professor?"

Dumbledore looked at her levelly, but did not appear to be offended, only guarded. "I'm afraid so, Miss Black. If Horace does agree, and it is my belief that he will, I need to see to it that the paperwork reaches out Minister quickly. For now, our other activities shall have to wait."

The fact that Ginny was not expected to dig out her memories of Tom Riddle today was both a relief and frustrating. She was not eager to delve into those shadowed sections of her mind, but she was tired of waiting for answers as well.

"Further imposing upon you hardly seems fair," he continued regretfully, "but I must insist that you two prepare for our meeting by dressing in your formal attire." He sighed, "Unfortunately, Horace is a man easily swayed by appearances." He glanced down at Ginny's ring finger. "Proper representation of your betrothal will be necessary."

She cringed. _Walburga's ring_. Wearing it had gotten easier as the magic leveled out, but it still made her skin crawl.

The whoosh of the floo sounded and spared her from having to respond as it drew Dumbledore's attention. She couldn't see who had arrived from her vantage point, but Dumbledore took it as a sign and straightened to attention. It was bizarre to watch him transition from wise old man to leader of the light.

"Best be off children," he said without looking at them. "Spare Molly the stress of having to track you down. She has been imposed upon enough with all this."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The four of them left quickly after the clear dismissal. After extricating a promise from Harry to tell them everything upon his return, Ron and Hermione parted ways from the other couple. The two walked rather close together, grazing hands as their arms moved, Ginny noticed with amusement as they walked through the door to the library.

Her mirth faded by the time she and Harry reached the fourth floor. Harry gathered his nicer clothing and left to change in the bathroom while Ginny readied herself in their room. She dressed quickly, but hesitated when it came time to switch the Black ring she wore.

For several minutes, she argued with herself. Dumbledore _insisted_. It rankled that he thought he could make demands. That he thought she would compromise for the petty opinion of some man she'd never met.

His opinion mattered, though. They needed to know what he knew. _Harry_ needed the information. Dumbledore hadn't been able to convince him on his own, yet he thought they could. If he thought it was best... could she really let pride or fear jeopardize everything?

She was still standing in front of the desk eyeing Walburga's ring with frustration when Harry returned. "You alright, Gin? I knocked, but you didn't answer."

"Yeah," she said quickly, picking up the ring. Still, she didn't put it on. Harry noticed.

"You shouldn't wear that," he said, disgust in his gaze as he looked at it.

She sighed. "Yes. I should," she said in defeat, but the ring stayed firmly in her unmoving right hand.

She stared down at her fist, trying to will herself to just do it and get it over with, but her entire being rejected the idea on so many levels. Harry's hand closed over hers at the first sign of movement. Her eyes shot to his.

"Don't," he said heavily. "You don't want to, Gin, and I don't want you to either."

His earnest expression, the gentle way he held her hand, and overall concern for her feelings blunted her reservations. This was for _Harry_. She loved him, how much and if that extended to _in love_ didn't matter right now. You made sacrifices for the people you loved.

"I do," she said more confident in the idea than the actual prospect. She wanted to help him, even if it was unpleasant. "It's important."

"No, it's not," he said firmly.

Her resolve, tenuous as it already was, wavered. _Why was he making this harder?_ Frustration boiled over. "It's matters to other people," she snapped.

"That ring is just a symbol of pure blood nonsense. You don't care about any of that and neither do I," he insisted, pulling his hand back from hers. The lack of warmth intensified the regret she felt the moment her last words had left her mouth. "It doesn't matter, but this does," he said, reaching into his pocket.

Ginny's heart seemed to stop altogether before beginning to race wildly at the sight of Euphemia's ring in his hand. Her startled gaze flew to his clear one. His expression was honest and resolute.

"That ring doesn't mean anything," he repeated. "This one does, though. My grandmother's ring is mine, by right and by choice. No one can insist I do anything with it but what I want…" he drew in a breath and let it out slowly, the confidence in his posture slipping slightly as vulnerability took its place, "and I want you to wear it, because it means something to me."

Her eyes fell back down to the ring, the blue and white reflected the red and gold of the room, a smaller rainbow of colors glinting as Harry's hand shook slightly. It was beautiful, but the pang of longing she felt was unrelated to that beauty. It was special - it mattered, as he said, and should only be given in such circumstances - and she needed to be sure before she could even consider it.

"Harry…" she tried. She wasn't sure how to articulate the doubt she held. He said it meant something, that he wanted her to wear it, but she knew he wouldn't be saying this if the circumstances were different. "It's lovely and I would love to wear it. Someday," she clarified, feeling terrible as a shadow passed over his expression. She continued, "because it was your choice, and not because you were trying to make things easier for me."

His hand went to his hair, pulling the ends of it as he brushed it aggressively. "I'm not saying this right," he said looking frustrated. Shaking himself out first, he turned back to her looking determined. He took her hand again, straightening her fingers and taking the Black ring from her. He placed it on the desk before taking her hand again. His thumb lingering where the ring would sit.

Despite his apparent determination, his words were still disjointed. "Okay… it's - I wanted to talk to you about this earlier, but then you said we should go, and I just thought I should wait until we had more time." He paused and collected himself, sounding more sure when he continued. "This is my choice, Gin. That's the point. This... it's about us, and me and not just going along with what's expected of us… we're choosing to actually be together because we want to, not just because we're supposed to." His hand gripped hers more firmly. "I don't care if it's not proper or fit for all those customs Sirius told us about. This isn't meant for anything or anyone else... it's just me choosing you, and you choosing me. If you want."

Warmth unfurled in her chest at his honest, heartfelt explanation. They weren't a normal couple - she had been the one to point that out last night - and their odd circumstances would always influence their relationship to some extent. She had no doubt that there would be more things they were unable to control happening to them, but there were also choices they could make that would make the life they were living their own. This was one of them.

"Yes," she said, watching the light of happiness bloom in him. "I'll always choose you. Always."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dumbledore was once more waiting for them when they entered the room. He missed nothing - his eyes immediately zoning in on Euphemia Potter's ring on her finger - but rather than commenting, he smiled. After all the grief Ginny had given him, it was somewhat of a surprise. He was certainly always kind to her, but the genuine happiness the sight brought him was still unexpected.

"Hello, again," he said kindly, once more the gentle Headmaster she had always thought of him as. "I have already spoken to Mrs. Weasley and cleared our venture with her, but thought perhaps a conversation was in order before we venture out in search of our new professor," he explained pleasantly. "I had informed you that next time we met, I would be collecting what memories you had that may be relevant to Tom Riddle, but that will not be possible today."

"When _will _it be possible? We've hardly seen you at all, despite how important you say this is," she countered. Not only was she ready to know what it was that he knew, but stressing over having to dig into those memories at an unknown future point was eating at her nerves. Perhaps if she knew _when_, she would feel better about it.

He thought it over silently, though she saw his eyes drift to Harry before looking back at her. "Two days from now, the first of August, should be possible, if that is agreeable to you both."

She and Harry shared a look, silently asking the other before giving their own consent. As far as she was concerned, this was the best she could hope for, probably even better than her original plan. She did not think it would be easy to relive those moments and waking Harry with nightmares the night before his birthday was not ideal, nor was thinking of those horrors on his birthday.

"That's acceptable," Ginny replied, having seen the agreement in Harry's eyes.

"Excellent."

"What exactly do we need to do, Professor?" Harry asked next.

"I believe a simple conversation will suffice," Dumbledore said. "Horace will be drawn to your status well enough. If he is pushed, however, his fear may override his indulgence. For now, it is best not to mention what we're truly after."

"That's easy enough," Harry agreed quickly.

Ginny nodded, but privately held compunctions. What good were they doing playing the slow game? By his own admission, Dumbledore had wasted years slowly trying to gather information. Tom was back now, though, and the stakes were much higher. Wasting any time seemed foolish beyond measure to her. She held her tongue, however, and they departed shortly thereafter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The home they separated closest to was a well-maintained, plain, Muggle dwelling. It was entirely unremarkable, except for the fact that the door stood slightly ajar. Dumbledore gestured for them to stand back as he approached, though he did not look truly worried. After cautiously peeking into the entryway, he waved them forward and lead the way into a living room that looked like it had witnessed a battle.

Pillow and cushions from the couch were torn, puffy feathers and pieces of fabric strewn about. Frames and glass from fallen pictures of a still smiling family has left a dusting of broken glass and splinters across the floor that crunched beneath Ginny's feet as she walked further into the room. There was even a splatter of blood trailing up the far wall from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Both Ginny and Harry stopped at the sight of it, while Dumbledore approached it. He dipped a finger in it, rubbing it between the thumb and index finger of his good hand. As Ginny stared, it struck her that there was something off about it. The deep red liquid shined unnatural in the light as Dumbledore raised it to his nose and sniffed…

"It's dragon's blood," she said suddenly, having seen enough of the stuff thanks to Charlie. Harry turned to her, but Dumbledore nodded without looking at her.

"It is, Miss Black, which tells us that the man we seek is still here… somewhere." They walked into the next room, a smaller sitting room, which appeared to be in an even worse condition. Without warning, he turned and prodded a large, overturned armchair with a jab of his wand.

The stuffed chair jumped and Ginny heard a man's voice exclaim, "Ouch!" The chair quickly morphed into a large, stuffed-looking man. "Merlin's Beard, Albus! Was that entirely necessary?"

"Well, good day to you, Horace," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Quite a convincing set-up, if I may so compliment."

"It was," the man - Horace Slughorn, apparently - said, sounding both proud and wistful. "Ah, well. Perhaps I will have better luck next time. What gave it away?"

"No Dark Mark," Dumbledore explained. "Had the Death Eaters truly been here and succeeded, they would not have let the opportunity to let it be known pass."

"Right. Knew I was forgetting something," he responded unperturbed. "It's no matter now. Care to help me return everything to rights?"

Dumbledore agreed, waving his wand in time with his friend, and the room swirled around them. The pillow, cushions, frames and glass are knitted back together by magic and went to their proper homes while Harry and Ginny watched, narrowly avoiding being hit by some of the debris.

It was as Slughorn was surveying the restoration of the room that he first caught sight of them. His stunned surprised quickly morphed into an expression of delight as his eyes lingered on Harry. Ginny bristled at the glint of greed in his eyes.

"Harry Potter!" he exclaimed in an undignified manner.

"Yes, sir," Harry said politely. He even extended his hand which the man shook eagerly. "You must be Mr. Slughorn. Professor Dumbledore told me a lot about you."

"Really?" Slughorn questioned skeptically. "Interesting. Of course, you needed no introduction. Even had you not been famous, I would recognize Lily Evans' eyes anywhere." He was still shaking Harry's hand, who now looked uncomfortable.

Dumbledore coughed, breaking the man's fixation on Harry and drawing Slughorn's attention to himself. Harry quickly stepped back, close to Ginny's side. Dumbledore used the opportunity to gesture to Ginny. "And this is Ginevra Black." 

His attention turned to her now. She didn't offer her hand, choosing to stay close to Harry. Still, she smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, sir." He ignored the greeting, choosing to assess her instead.

"Yes, I had seen the papers this morning," he said measuredly. "Quite ambitious, it seems. Perhaps you're well-suited to the Black name." His tone held no judgement, but his gaze weighing her in an uncomfortable way. Ginny scowled and Harry tensed beside her. She let him continue, however, not truly caring what the man thought of her. He continued without acknowledging either of their reactions. "I can't speak for the nature of Sirius Black, but his brother Regulus was a student of mine and quite ambitious himself. It is a shame that I never did get to know his elder brother, I would have quite l liked to have had that set."

_That_ was enough to set her off, however. Her control finally snapped and her tone was vicious as she responded, "Sirius Black was a _man, _a good one at that. He was not a trophy to be collected," she said, staring daggers at the round man. "None of us are."

Harry pulled her attention away from Slughorn, a rather lucky thing for the man as her wand had found its way into her clenched hand without her awareness. The intense look on Harry's face gave her the impression that he wanted to kiss her and she felt the feeling spread to her. It was far from the right time, however, and she could tell he was settling when he ran a hand through her hair, twirling the tresses around his fingers as he reached the end. It was an action he had taken to repeating often as of late. The simple action sent a now familiar sensation through her, and she closed her eyes instinctively, immersing herself in the comfort it brought. When she opened her eyes once more, she felt settled again. He recognized that she was better without word or gesture, and they turned their attention back to Slughorn as one.

Ginny was startled to see the far away look in his eyes. He seemed to have frozen in his spot, hand still raised in some forgotten gesture as he stared. She and Harry shared a confused look that said neither of them had a clue what was going on. Ginny glanced at Dumbledore, surprised to see that he was not confused, but rather amused. Underneath the amusement, however, she thought she saw a mixture of nostalgia and triumph.

"Is everything alright, Horace?" Dumbledore asked, his voice offering no clues into what he was truly thinking. It did serve to break Slughorn from his reverie.

The man let out a cough and shook his head. "Yes. Yes. Fine." He looked at Ginny and Harry more closely this time, his eyes searching. "Perhaps I spoke too quickly, earlier. For a moment, I was certain I was looking at Lily and James once more."

Ginny shared an incredulous look with Harry. They'd spent countless hours looking at pictures of his parents, and aside from the color of her hair falling under the same category, she looked nothing like Lily Potter. Harry looked like a clone of his father, of course, but he had yet to reach the height James had acquired by the time he and Lily had begun dating.

Slughorn understood the confusion. "No, not in your looks, but certainly in your behavior. I couldn't tell you how many times I witnessed James lavish Lily with attention in the same exact manner. He used to twist the ends of her hair just like that…" he trailed off, clearly lost in memories. "Lily Evans was a favorite of mine, you know. James never much cared to be involved in my little club - though he certainly had the talent - but that changed when they became involved. It was a very rare thing that I saw her without him tagging along by the end." The misty cloud in his eyes cleared, and he chuckled a bit to himself, "Though I must say, that temper of yours Miss Black could have rivaled Lily's for certain." She remembered what Harry had told her of witnessing Lily confront James over her treatment of Snape. "She always used it well, though. Her kindness and passion was unrivaled by anyone I've ever met in my years."

Ginny knew she wasn't supposed to push - Dumbledore had specifically said they weren't after the memory itself today - but she was tired of waiting. "Fine way to repay the memory of your favorite student, don't you think?" she baited. "Hiding. Lying. Trying to save your own skin while her son fights for his life over and over against her killer." Her anger had made her blunt.

"Miss Black - " Dumbledore interjected while Harry placed a hand on her arm. She ignored them both.

Plowing on, she stared Slughorn down firmly. "You could be helping, could be teaching students and helping them protect themselves. You could be honest and give Dumbledore the truth. Instead you're covering your own ass and letting them win."

Slughorn pulled back, a sick look on his face that he tried to pass as derision. "Lily, forgive me. Your temper is not like hers. She was always composed, always speaking in the defense of others. She never resorted to unjust provocation such as your own behavior."

"I _am_ defending others," she insisted. "If you don't like what I have to say, perhaps you should reevaluate your own behavior."

Slughorn turned to Dumbledore. "Really, Albus? You expect _this _sort of treatment to persuade me to agree to your terms?" His chins wobbled as he shook his bloated head, Ginny noticed in disgust. "We're done here. You can see yourselves out."

Dumbledore gave Ginny a disappointed look and sighed wearily. His tone was laden with disappointment as he responded, "As you wish, Horace."

Harry spoke up then, his voice soft but sure. "She has a point, you know." His gaze, firmly on Slughorn, held neither judgement nor contempt, only an honesty that was impossible to ignore. "What do you really hope to gain by all this?" He waved a hand to indicate the room that clearly belonged to Muggles. "If you thought they'd ever leave you alone, you wouldn't be doing all this right now. You already know that you're not safe. But you could be, if I can figure out how to stop him." His stance had gained strength as he spoke, showing off the side to him that ran the D.A. He was showing Slughorn the version of him that was a leader, the one that inspired people to stand up and fight for what they believed in. Ginny felt pride swell within her. "I'm going to put an end to Tom Riddle or die trying. You telling us the truth about what you know may mean the difference between the two."

Her heart was in her throat at the thought of Tom killing Harry, but she hid the anxiety by slipping her hand into Harry's and staring Slughorn down. She would see to it that the man caved, no matter what it took. Perhaps that resolution should have alarmed her, but all she could feel was purpose settle into her bones as they presented a united front against this obstacle.

Slughorn looked torn at the decision before him. He surveyed the room, avoiding their gaze, but it was obvious that he was weighing his options.

Dumbledore pressed the advantages. "I can have you safely behind Hogwarts' defenses within the hour, Horace. You will find no safer place than there."

Slughorn eyed the headmaster apprehensively. "And the cost? When will that come due?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I will require the memory, Horace - the _true_ memory - but we will secure your safety first." At Slughorn's hesitant nod - barely just the slight dip of his chin - Dumbledore continued, "In that case, I shall escort Harry and Ginny back to their home while you ready yourself. When I return, we will go to Hogwarts and once and complete the paperwork the Minister has requested." He looked at his watch. "Shall we say, five minutes or so?"

Still looking unsure, Slughorn agreed. "You have five minutes," he said with feigned bravado. "I will not wait for you beyond that."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied graciously. He turned to them. "It seems we are on a deadline now. Best be off."

Ginny turned to the repulsive man. She made no apologies, but still offered, "Thank you, Professor. We appreciate your willingness to help."

The man narrowed his eyes at her, but that was the best she could honestly do. "Right," he said unhappily.

"We mean it. Thank you," Harry said with a sincerity that softened the man.

He looked sad and broken as he replied. "I am sorry, young man… I didn't know… I made a terrible error that day… just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it."

Ginny's angered faded as the man lost all his bluster and began mumbling his regrets. More gently than she would have thought herself capable only moments ago, she said, "We understand, sir." She glanced at Dumbledore briefly as she added, "The Tom Riddle you knew was bright, charming, and capable of fooling almost anyone. If he weren't, he never would have made it as far as he did."

"An accurate description, Miss Black," Dumbledore agreed. "For now, I think that is enough discussion. We really must be moving along. There is much to be done and our time is limited."


	23. Chapter 20

**A/N: I have a lot of people to thank for helping me with recent chapters (some posted, some not yet) so… thank you to Luke, Becs, Hayley, TJ, Kathy, and Ella, for looking at snippets, general encouragement, and beta-reading too! Hope you enjoy Harry's birthday! **

Harry woke from a very pleasant dream to the feeling of Ginny's very real lips. In his foggy state, he didn't think twice about wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to deepen it. Her happy squeal of indignation woke him up.

"Harry! Stop or you'll squish it," she scolded with laughter in her voice.

"I think it would like that actually," he replied, falling back onto his pillow and closing his eyes. _That_ part of him was very awake, but he was not.

"Boys," she muttered in fond exasperation. With a laugh, she shook him. "Come on! Get up! Get up!" she said excitedly.

"Gin," he groaned. "What time is it even?" Without his glasses, he couldn't see the clock on the desk across the room, nor did he care to leave his comfortable position in bed. If she would just lie back down, it may be perfect actually. Even with his blurred vision, he couldn't miss the bright red of her shining hair and reached out to run his fingers through it. The contact relaxed him further. It seemed to have a similar effect on her as she drifted forward under his touch until their lips met again. This time her mouth opened, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

They were both breathing heavily when they finally pulled back. "You left me," he said indignantly, running his hands through her hair again, taking notice that there were no tangles. The taste of mint toothpaste lingering on his tongue provided further proof.

"I did," she admitted. "But only for a minute. To get things ready."

He didn't bother trying to understand what she meant, his hand slipping out of her hair and down to the smooth curve of her waist. He had just managed the find the strip of soft skin exposed above the hemline of her pants when she pulled back, hopping out of bed as she went.

"None of that," she said, sounding breathless. She slipped his glasses on him herself, his grandmother's ring on her finger the first thing that came into focus as his vision cleared. A smile spread across his face at the sight of it, remembering how she accepted it - accepted and chose _him._ Not a moment later the vision was gone, replaced by a brightly wrapped package being unceremoniously pushed in his face. "It's present time! Happy birthday!"

He shook the sleep from his body and sat up quickly. He'd known today was his birthday, of course, just hadn't been awake enough before now to realize what day it was.

As he took the package from her, she said, "It's not much. I didn't buy it, but I had it… you'll see." She cut herself off with an impatient gesture for him to open it. Her words could have been apologetic, except the gleam in her eyes told him she was happy with what she had chosen.

Delicately, he pulled off the spellotape to unwrap it. Ginny's half snort expressed her frustration and amusement at his slow pace, but he still hadn't received enough gifts over the years for the sense of wonder to wear off. Getting a gift was still a happy surprise that someone had remembered his birthday, got him something, and also taken the time to wrap it as if he mattered. Even if it had, this would still be special because it was the first gift she had ever given him.

That didn't mean he wasn't curious, however. Once he was sure he wasn't going to rip the paper, he quickly pulled it off the reveal the gift. It wasn't at all what he had expected, but the framed photo - one he recognized without ever having seen before thanks to the stories Sirius had left behind - and the letter it had been sent with were perfect.

"Where did you find this?" he asked in wonder, reaching out to gently touch the image.

"I found it in the back of the wardrobe when I was moving my stuff in here," she said softly. Her voice became apologetic, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away, but it was a bit torn. I had the damage repaired by a specialty store in Diagon Alley, so it shouldn't ever fade, and then had it framed. Is it alright?"

Harry nodded, but couldn't bring himself to speak just yet.

It was the picture Sirius had mentioned, along with his mother's letter. The toddler version of himself zoom by on a broom that hovered no more than two feet above the floor, while his dad followed looking proud but alert, his protective hands waiting on either side of his son should Harry fall. His mum stood in the background, watching fondly and laughing at every paranoid twitch his dad showed.

Wetness filled Harry's eyes as he saw further proof of what his family could have been. His mother truly was lovely. Everything about her displayed a vibrancy and life that lit up the room around her.

His father was more dedicated that he had ever guessed. Obviously, his dad had loved them fiercely- he'd willingly faced Voldemort just to give his wife and son a few extra minutes - but he hadn't known the brave, rash Gryffindor everyone talked about was gentle and paranoid about his young son's safety enough to trail him on a child's broom.

The first tears fell as he watched the scene replay and witnessed the small ways in which he had been loved. He audibly sniffled as he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Ginny didn't say anything, but leaned into him further wrapping a hand around his arm. He placed his hand over hers and gathered the strength to look away from the image to the words his mum had written.

Her script struck him once more, just as it had when he saw her signature at Gringotts. This time he noticed that she wrote her g's the same way he did. This was even better though, because her own words, spoken to a friend, painted him a clearer picture of who she had been as an individual. As many stories as he'd heard about her, nothing made her feel more real to him than the things she had touched or created on her own.

He swallowed thickly, trying to force the lump out of his throat. His voice was still hoarse when he said, "I love it. Thank you, Gin."

"I'm glad you like it," she said with a grin, though she looked far more relieved than she let on by word alone. "It's kind of a multipurpose present, when you think about it." At his quirked brow, she explained, "Now we know for sure that Sirius likes to tell tall-tales."

"That's right," he said with a chuckle. "He did claim she was rather put out with him, and my dad was the one who was pleased. She didn't seem very upset if you ask me. She sounded wonderful, actually."

"That's what I thought too. Then again, if she was anything like my mum, she might have sent him a howler first before she realized how happy it made you. Just look at your face," she said, practically glowing as she looked at the baby Harry's euphoric expression. "You were born to be a flyer. How could that look not soften her opinion?"

He looked back at the picture - it was all he wanted to do anyway - but focused on his small face this time as he zoomed in and out of the frame. The enjoyment there was so pure that he thought he could feel its echo even now.

"I see what you mean," he said quietly.

It was near impossible to stop looking, but he tore his eyes away once more. He didn't want to miss enjoying today by longing for the past. He turned his attention to Ginny instead, who still looked completely entranced by the photo. There was a tenderness to her expression that he'd seen before, but only when she looked at him, and he was seized by a longing even fiercer than the one he felt when thinking of his parents.

"Since it's my birthday," he began, knowing he wasn't achieving the casualness he intended, "does that mean I can make all the decisions? Because going back to bed with you sounds like a brilliant way to spend the morning."

Broken from her reverie, she looked up at him happily. "As nice as that sounds... no. I have lots of plans for you today - and they took forever to negotiate, by the way - so there is no time to waste."

"Negotiate?" he asked, curiosity pushing his other desires back.

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "I had to talk with Mum, Dad, Dumbledore, Tonks and even _Percy_ to make this happen," she explained, ticking off each name with one of her fingers as she listed them, "so no way am I letting us get off track."

_All of those people?_ "When did you even have time for that?"

She smiled proudly, the sly look she usually reserved for messing with her brothers lighting up her face. "With Ron's help, of course. Why do you think he was so adamant that you play chess last night? Or gave you all those lessons."

It was true. Ron had _insisted _that they play - twice. After Harry lost soundly both times, his friend had spent over an hour giving Harry an exhaustive lesson on all the reasons why and strategies he could use to correct them. It had been rather unimportant to Harry - he really didn't mind losing at chess - but his friend had seemed so enthusiastic that he did his best to pay attention anyway.

"You two…" he began in fond exasperation. He really hadn't suspected anything.

"Are Weasleys," she finished for him. "Misdirection is an inherited trait - comes with the red hair - but I'm sure you'll pick up on it soon," she added, giving him a playful pat on the chest. Harry's sarcastic reply was cut off when she continued, "Enough, now! Go shower and get ready. I'll let Mum know you're up so we can have your birthday breakfast before we leave."

_They were going out?_ A foreign childlike excitement rose up in him. Grimmauld Place had certainly gotten nicer and cleaner over the past month, but there was still an overall uninviting feel to it.

"Any way I can convince you to tell me where we're going?" he tried, knowing it would be useless.

She smiled devilishly. "Not a chance. All you need to know is that you and I have a date, followed by birthday activities."

"A date?"

Her amusement turned soft. "Yes. A date. It's something you wanted to do, right?" She became unsure as she continued, "We don't have to. It's your birthday, and we _can_ do whatever you want. I just wanted to surprise you."

"I want to," he rushed to assure her. He _really_ wanted to. He tried to show her just how much with an impassioned kiss.

She looked thoroughly reassured when he pulled back. The breathtaking smile he was so fond of lit her face briefly before she came back to herself. "Harry, as nice as this is, if we're actually going to go on our date, we need to get going."

"Alright. I'm going," he conceded, excited to find out what she had planned. Aside from the fact that her clear pride and enthusiasm would have endeared him to whatever she had planned regardless of the location, the fact that they would be doing it somewhere else had his own eagerness mounting.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When he made it down to the kitchen, a wide breakfast spread greeted him. Despite how delicious everything looked and smelled, it was not the food that caught his attention. It was Ginny, whose already pink cheeks darkened further as she caught sight of him.

"We'll be fine, Mum," she said in a tone that he recognized as one she was carefully controlling. "Tonks will be with us, and Dumbledore is sending someone from the Order too. Just in case."

He hadn't taken notice earlier, but Ginny was wearing casual clothes with a bag slung over her shoulder. Again, he wondered what exactly she had planned. Beneath her stern tone, there was exasperation and possibly amusement.

"That is not what I meant, Ginevra, and you know it," Mrs. Weasley said.

"_Mum,"_ Ginny hissed, tipping her head in his direction. He didn't have time to ponder the exchange before Mrs. Weasley took notice of him.

"Harry dear!" She rushed to embrace him, kissing his cheek as she pulled back. "Happy birthday! Sit down and have a bite, won't you?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said before taking his spot at the table. Ginny joined him, the previous conversation forgotten as they both tucked in.

Tonks joined them partly through. "Morning," she said, somewhat lastly. Her hair was that mousy color that Harry was becoming accustomed to seeing on her, though he thought it robbed her of her usual liveliness. Despite the worn look, she smiled and kissed his cheek in greeting. "And happy birthday to you, Harry."

Harry found himself fighting the urge to pull back and shot a look to check on Ginny's reaction. They had spoken with Dumbledore about Tonks' interest in Remus, but still… if his general feelings about her being close to Neville were anything to go by.

Ginny wasn't at all upset. If anything, she looked amused by his discomfort before turning to embrace Tonks. He hadn't realized how close the two were until he saw the warmth between them. He just barely heard Ginny whisper, "No progress then? I know you two talked yesterday."

Tonks gave a tiny shake of her head. "Not enough time and I was too angry. Then he was gone."

"I'm sorry," Ginny replied just as quietly, before pulling back from their lengthy hug. "Thank you for coming and offering to help out today," she said at a normal volume, her demeanor shifting back to normal.

Tonks straightened herself out as well and responded as if the previous exchange hadn't happened. "Glad to help. Plus, wouldn't want to miss this one's birthday." She leaned in as if to tell a secret, "I heard it's very exclusive, you know."

Her tone was so serious that Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing. Ginny didn't even try to contain her mirth. Harry had always like Tonks himself, but he could understand how she and Ginny had become actual friends.

Ron and Hermione joined them next, the former looking particularly sleepy. Hermione stopped to hug him and wish him a happy birthday as well, but Ron merely pat him on the back as he passed in search of food, mumbling his own greeting.

"Mate," Harry said in amusement. "Why don't you go back to bed?" he stopped himself from continuing and telling Ron that he had unknown plans that morning.

He and Ginny hadn't exactly told anyone about the change in their relationship status. Now that he thought about it, he assumed that her parents must have known given how much trouble she had gone through to plan their upcoming date.

Ron didn't notice his stumble and continued assembling his breakfast. "Nah. Gotta be up. I'm helping Fred and George at the store this morning, covering Verity's usual shift so she and Lee can work the afternoon shift for your birthday dinner. Don't know what Hermione is doing up, though."

"I have some research I want to do before we go - "

"Shh!" Ginny interrupted.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but continued just as patiently, "before we go to the party."

"Sounds boring," Ron said.

"Yes, well," her eyes slid to Ginny with a knowing look, "alone time can be quite enjoyable. Don't you agree Ginny?"

_Well, that's at least three people who know definitively, _Harry thought. It now made sense to him why Hermione had dragged him off last night to talk about options for Buckbeak. She had spent an hour telling him in extensive detail how much better the hippogriff's life would be if Harry sent him back to Hagrid with a new name and some colored feathers, even though he had agreed ten minutes in. She was in on it too.

Ginny's reply was cut off by her mother. "Ginny dear, it's getting rather close to time. Dumbledore didn't say who would be coming, did he?"

"No. Just that they'd bring the portkey." She glanced at the clock. "We still have a few minutes."

Her mother looked worriedly at the clock, but sent them to wash up as she busied herself. Harry and Ginny did as they were told without comment. They returned just as Remus Lupin stepped out of the floo.

"Apologies for my lateness. Dumbledore was a bit behind getting the portkey together," he told the room at large, raising a worn book. He turned to Harry quickly and said warmly, "Happy birthday, Harry. Thank you for allowing me to join you today."

Despite the sincere enthusiasm, Harry noticed that the man made no move to touch him like all the others had. It highlighted just how closed off Remus was from the rest of the world and Harry was struck with guilt as he realized how little effort he had put into keeping in touch with him after Sirius had come into his life. "I didn't know you'd be coming actually, but I'm glad you're here," he replied honestly.

Tonks cut in, her voice sounding stressed, "As lovely as it is that Remus has joined us, we have less than a minute until the portkey activates. You two ready?" The tips of her hair were black, but the rest of it seemed to be shifting through various shades of brown, as if she were doing her best to control it but failing.

With hasty goodbyes and promises to see them in a few hours, they managed the farewells just in time. Harry barely managed to place his hand on the book before he felt the pull in his navel and the horrible disorientation of the portkey activating. When they landed moments later, he didn't need to wait for his vision to clear to recognize where they were. The scent of flowers in the air mingled with the sound of clucking chickens and gnomes left unchecked immediately clued him into the fact that Ginny had brought him home.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure it's okay?" Ginny asked again as they wandered across the Burrow toward the pond. "This wasn't the original plan. I wanted to go somewhere else, but they said nothing in public."

"It's brilliant, Gin. I mean it," he assured her again.

He wasn't even lying. It really had been a wonderful morning so far. Remus and Tonks had taken to walking around the perimeter of the property under the guise of checking the wards. Harry suspected that it was rather that they had a lot of talking to do in private. Not that it upset him at all. He was perfectly happy to have some free time alone with Ginny.

Their time together had actually been amazing. It was easy, as close to perfect as he could have imagined. really. They'd spent most of the morning walking around the Burrow, Ginny telling him all about it as seen through the eyes of the youngest - and sneakiest - Weasley. The number of stories she had that could be used as blackmail was astounding. He'd laughed until his cheeks and stomach hurt at some of them, but his favorite parts had been the secrets of her own that she shared with him. So far, she'd shown him her favorite hide outs on the property, how she was able to break into the broom shed to steal her brother's brooms - and his too, he had learned - and was now leading him to the pond for a swim.

"Okay. Okay. I'll stop being mental. I promise," she said with a self-deprecating smile, before pulling him by their joined hands with more confidence in her step. Harry let their arms extend between them, granting him just enough distance that he could get a full view of her as she went.

He watched her light movements happily, the sun igniting the spectrum of reds and golds in her hair as they shifted like water with each step she took. His eyes drifted further, caught by the sway of her hips and the shape of her bum, perhaps getting a bit too excited as he imagined what she'd look like in her swimming costume. He had to force himself to look away, knowing his own swimming trunks wouldn't do him any favors in hiding the particular issue the view of her backside was causing.

The situation only got worse when they arrived at the bank of the pond and she shed her shirt, revealing all but a thin strip of her back. He couldn't stop himself from staring, starting with her heavily freckled shoulders and following the curve of her spine down as the pattern faded out to creamy white skin. He was just imagining how his thumbs might fit in the divots above her tailbone when she bent forward to shimmy her bottoms off. The sight was too much, his erection was already tenting his bottoms in a way that she was sure to notice. He forced himself to look away and all but rushed into the water, removing his shirt as he walked.

The cool water was a relief as he waded out to chest-deep waters, aiding in both covering his excitement and toning it down. He kept himself facing away from the bank until her heard Ginny slip into the water and come up beside him. A chuckle escaped him when he realized that she had to tread water to be where he stood.

"Shut it, you," she laughed, before splashing him. Before he could retaliate, she ducked under the water and swam away. He didn't immediately go after her, but instead watched the graceful she glided through the water. When she resurfaced well out of splashing range, she gave him a cheeky grin. "Aw, come on, Potter. You aren't going to let me get away that easily, are you?" she challenged.

He wasted no time in accepting her challenge.

They spent nearly an hour splashing about in the water, taking turns chasing one another. Ginny was by far the better swimmer, having spent countless hours playing games like these with her brothers, but he still managed to catch her regularly. He didn't even care that she was likely letting him, because it meant he got to touch the smoothness of her wet bare skin. Of course, it also meant getting hit in the face by a wave of water that was impressive coming from such a small person, but it was totally worth it.

This time they were in shallower waters, however, and he grabbed her around the waist and lifted, keeping her arms above his shoulders and out of the water. "Got you now," he said triumphantly.

"That you did," she murmured. It sounded like a purr to his ears. The look in her eyes wasn't helping either - the chocolate in her eyes molten, like she was burning with the same desire he was - and when her eyes dropped to his lips, he didn't hesitate in leaning forward to kiss her.

Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck, heatedly meeting his passion with equal measure as her tongue stroked his. His left hand rose without his consent threading into the wet tangles of her hair as his right pressed against her back and drew her closer. When he felt her hardened nipples pressing against his chest through the material of her swimming top, it occurred to him that she was dangerous close to feeling his reaction to their activities and loosened his grip on her. Without him to hold her close, she drifted back just far enough to allow him to think clearly.

"How much longer do we have before everyone gets here?" he asked, holding her at the new, safe distance.

"Soon," she answered, sounding winded herself. She seemed as reluctant as he felt as she slowly released her grip around his neck and put greater distance between them. "We should probably get out and dry off. I have one more place to show you before the rest of crazies join us. I thought maybe we could have lunch there?"

He agreed and followed her out of the water after taking a minute to fully calm down. He deliberately kept his eyes off her as she dried and redressed herself. This time, he walked directly beside her as they held hands while she led them down the path that led to the garden.

"Well, this is it," she said, placing the basket that contained their lunch down and lowering herself onto the ground. There wasn't that much in the area, just an uneven grouping of common red poppies. Harry took a seat too, wondering what exactly was so special about it, but not wanting to ask. The look she gave him said she understood what he was thinking anyway, as did her next words. "I know it isn't much, but this was where I was allowed to plant whatever I wanted as a kid. I planted the poppies when I was five, or maybe six, when I was first coming to learn about the wars and what they meant."

Harry had spent enough time in the muggle school system that he knew what poppies meant in relation to the war. They had grown prolifically in the battle fields after World War I and become a symbol for the blood that had been spilled.

"Auntie Muriel had started to teach me things that 'a proper witch should be taught' - all the old bloodlines and such - when I noticed that so many of these family names she was so insistent that I learn didn't even exist anymore, or were down to just one member, one of which was Grandmum Weasley's family." She reached out and stroked one of the flowers. "So I decided to ask my dad about it. That's when he told me about Grindelwald's war..." She spent a little time explaining it to him in the briefest terms before returning to her main point. "... and dad is obsessed with muggles of course, so he told me about the poppies in the battlefields. He said that it wasn't just all the lives lost, but the hope that life could thrive again even after such tragedy and that those losses hadn't been in vain." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as if embarrassed, but the words were strong as she continued, "That always stuck with me. Because then we had Voldemort's war, and so many more people and more families died, but mine was still here. They had lost so much, but my parents were here with seven children, living the lives so many of their family members didn't get to."

"I like it," he said when she finally finished. "It's important to remember and honor the ones who were lost, even if we don't remember them."

"It is," she said, sounding relieved that he understood. "But enough about that. We're supposed to be celebrating! And since Mum isn't here, I can give you this first," she said, pulling a box from the basket and handing it to him.

He opened it to find a small round cake, frosted in chocolate. It was neater than the one Hagrid had given him for his eleventh birthday, but inexpert enough that he knew Mrs. Weasley hadn't done it. Just to be sure, he asked, "You made me a cake?"

"Yes," she said, smiling slightly. Her cheeks were a bit pink as she added, "I know it's not that great and it may not taste very good. I've never really done it by myself - Mum likes hers to be perfect - but I wanted to make one for you."

"It's perfect. Thank you," he said earnestly. "I'm sure it's delicious."

And it was, he realized as they shared without touching the actual meal. He'd had cakes made for him before by Mrs. Weasley that were culinary masterpieces, but this one was even better for its lack of perfection. Knowing that Ginny had gone out of her way to make it for him and having the opportunity to share it with her made it the best cake he'd ever had.

XXXXXXXX

The morning up until that point had been peaceful, almost to the point of bliss, but the arrival of the rest of their family brought a rush of activity that was unquellable. The rest of the Weasleys, including Hermione and Fleur, had arrived with a literal bang, as Fred and George had set off fireworks to announce their arrival. Despite how swiftly the day had changed, it had been a thoroughly enjoyable time.

They had played quidditch, breaking into two teams that consisted of a keeper, two chasers, and a seeker on each team. Hermione had declined the offer to play, electing to sit on the sidelines and referee. In the end, Bill ended up with Fleur and Percy as his chasers and Ginny as his seeker. Harry would have preferred Ginny play chaser for him, but Ron had called it unfair. "She's the only one who stands a chance against him," he'd said. Ginny had shrugged, but Bill knew her well enough to recognize just how true that was. Harry had been seeker while Ron kept for his team and twins acted as Chasers.

Harry spent most of his time flying with Ginny, not even attempting to catch the old battered snitch Bill had brought with them, not wanting to put an early end to their family game. He was well aware that she was doing the same. It probably would have been wiser had they both been chasers instead, but he couldn't bring himself to care as they took turns trying to outmaneuver each other for fun. He had even spotted Tonks and Lupin stopping briefly to watch, but they continued their rounds before the game ended.

Everything had been going well, at least until the mud fight started. He honestly wasn't sure who had thrown the first handful. All he knew was that he had just landed next to Ginny, completely engrossed in the way her hair fell in waves down her back as she pulled it out of its holder, when he was hit in the face with a clump of it that splattered her as well. The look on her face actually had him worried for a moment that someone was shortly going to be fighting off bat-bogies, but the situation around them devolved quickly enough that there was no telling who the culprit was. By the end of the impromptu war, every member of their party had been covered in the filthy stuff, and they all decided to take a dip in the pond to clean off. Ginny herself had insisted she needed a proper shower and Harry had chosen to follow her instead.

Once inside, Ginny had claimed the first shower, arguing that she needed the extra time to style her hair. She gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek and hurried up the stairs without a backward glance as he watched her go in amusement, finding it strangely endearing to see her flustered about her appearance. It wasn't that she wasn't feminine - she was - but rather that she rarely showcased it so openly. Not that she had been given many opportunities to do so, given that every other time they'd had reason to make themselves presentable had been under less than ideal circumstances.

Despite her quick goodbye and mad dash, there was a lightness to her that kept his attention as she drifted up the winding stairs of the Burrow. He'd watched her a lot over the last month, enough to recognize the relaxed position of her shoulders and the way her weight rested almost entirely on the balls of her feet as she walked meant that she was deeply and truly _happy_ in that moment. The same way he was. He couldn't even remember the last time he felt so carefree.

"You've never resembled your father more than you do right now," Remus said from behind him. Harry quickly looked away from the flick of red hair he saw as Ginny rounded the corner to the man he hadn't known had been watching him. Remus was smiling at him. His curiosity must have shown, because Remus elaborated, "He used to get that exact same look on his face whenever Lily walked by." He chuckled a bit as Harry's cheeks heated. "Sirius called it 'dopey', but I thought it was sweet that he was never afraid to let his feelings for her show, even before she returned those feelings. It doesn't seem like you have that problem though."

Despite the embarrassment he felt, a smile slipped out. "Just lucky, I guess?"

"That you are," Remus said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I can't count the number of times James made a fool of himself for Lily, but he never regretted it." His expression turned from fond to tentative. "I was actually wondering if you might like to hear a bit about their history?"

"_Yes_," Harry blurted without thought. The mixture of amusement, sadness, and guilt on the older man's face made him slightly embarrassed about his enthusiasm. "Please," he added with more composure.

"Would you like to hear about their first date? That seems appropriate," he said, gently teasing.

Harry was beyond caring about that, however, and nodded eagerly.

Lupin leaned against the wall, his eyes going distant and a smile spreading across his face. Harry mimicked him, not caring that they were standing at the bottom of the steps or that he didn't know the details of the story yet. The expression lightened Remus's face and made him look younger in a way Harry had never seen before.

"It's actually a good story," he said with a chuckle. "First, you have to understand that James had asked Lily to go on a date so many times at that point that we'd all lost count. She'd unequivocally turned him down each and every time, but he'd never once lost his confidence. It became something of an automatic response. He'd annoy her, she'd tell him off, and he'd respond with an offer to stop if she'd just go out with him, usually accompanied by a wink and his cockiest grin. Then she'd get flustered and shoot him down. We'd all tried to tell him to give it up, but he never would."

Harry tried to picture it through the same lens that Remus was, but It was too close to Snape's vision to be comforting. "What changed?" he asked, hoping to replace the mental image quickly.

"The war was starting to pick up by the time we were going into our final year," Remus said, a weight that wasn't there before hanging in his voice. "James… he and your grandfather had a run in with Death Eaters over the holidays. Neither were hurt, but the muggles they were protecting hadn't been so lucky. The experience… it changed him. He started taking things more seriously. It was a month into our final year and he hadn't asked Lily out on a date even once yet. They'd been getting along quite well as Head Boy and Girl..." The light returned as he continued to tell the tale in vivid detail. Closing his eyes, Harry pictured the scene as the words washed over him.

_October was drawing closer as his dad's brooding continued. Sirius had given up trying to make him laugh and simply resigned to let his best mate sulk if he wanted to. Remus sat quietly doing his work while James scratched away viciously at his parchment and Sirius wandered across the common room to chat up some girls. _

_James had reached the point of muttering under his breath to vent his frustration. "What good is this when people are _dying _out there? We should be out defending them! Or at least honing our skills, practicing defense, not wasting our time writing bloody essays!"_

_Remus was just about to placate him by patiently explaining for the nth time how a well rounded education would make them more helpful to the war effort once they graduated when loud laughter rang out from across the room. He winced, recognizing Lily's laughter mixing with that of her friends and Sirius. A quick look at James told him everything he needed to know._

_The outburst was swift. "What is wrong with you?" he shouted at them, rising to his feet. "How can you sit there and laugh while people are losing their lives as we speak? Don't you care at all?"_

_"Of course I _care,_" Lily replied, standing as well to meet his level._ "_That's why I'm here, making sure I'm the strongest witch I can be to _help_ them," she said strongly, but with none of the bite that James' accusation had held. "But that doesn't mean we should forget to live."_

_"What do you even know about living? You spent the last six years with your head in books trying to be the best at everything!" he snapped. _

_Remus had never seen James talk to Lily Evans that way. Before today, he wouldn't have thought James even capable of it. He was suddenly worried that things were about to explode. He'd seen Lily's temper quite a few times - never without provocation, but this certainly constituted that - and wasn't looking forward to what came next._

_Lily surprised him, though. Instead of snapping back, she crossed her arms across her chest and raised a brow, but said calmly, "I'd like to believe I know a fair bit more than you."_

_"You don't know me, Evans," he bit out._

_The look she gave him was assessing, as though she'd never truly seen him before. "No," she said slowly. "I suppose I don't. Maybe it's about time we change that."_

_"Excuse me?" James asked, the anger draining into confusion._

_"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," Lily replied steadily. Her demeanor betrayed no nerves. "Let's go tomorrow, after breakfast."_

_Remus thought James may have been stunned beyond comprehension. He didn't move or speak for a long moment, staring at Lily with wide eyes as though he weren't sure if she were real or not. Lily never once lost her composure as she waited. _

_It took Sirius yelling, "James! This is the moment you've been waiting for. Don't bullocks it up now!" and the laughter of everyone watching to snap him to attention. _

_"Yeah. Yes. Sure. That…" he ruffled his hair and straightened his spine as he tried to redeem himself. "It's a date."_

_"Don't push your luck, Potter," she retorted, though Remus caught the smile on her face as she turned her back on the still flabbergasted James._

"Wait," Harry interrupted. It was all too fantastical to believe. "She rejects him for years at every opportunity, and then suddenly she's asking _him_ out, in front of everyone, when he's being an arse, just like that?"

Lupin's eyes lit with amusement. "That is what I'm saying, though it's not quite the truth." Harry's puzzlement must have shown because Remus laughed. "Your mother, for all that she thought she was being circumspect, spent the better part of the preceding month watching every move your father made." He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "No, Harry. It was not 'just like that'. Your mother was careful, smart, and brave. She knew what she wanted by then, and she wasn't afraid to go after it once she knew."

Harry had to admire their bravery - both of them - for going after what they wanted. He wasn't sure he'd ever been that type of brave before. Ginny had been difficult enough and he was working from a rather solid foundation there. When he told Remus this, the older man laughed freely.

"Your father was brave as can be until it came time for the actual date. He even had Sirius promise to be close by in case he messed up and needed a quick escape." His tone laced with wry amusement, he added, "I'm not quite sure how he thought running away after offending her would work in his favor, but luckily it wasn't needed."

It was strange to think of how different his parents' story was from his own. It had taken him years to notice Ginny and weeks to do anything about his feelings, but being with her felt as easy as breathing. That line of thinking was sure to distract him, however, so he asked, "What did Sirius do? Follow them and watch?"

Some of the mirth faded from Remus's face, replaced by nervousness. "No, they arranged that James would find Sirius if he needed him." He pulled something from his pocket, extending to toward Harry as an offering. "Using an item identical to this."

Harry reached out to take it. As it stared up at him from his palm, he recognized without being told that for the second time that day he had been given a piece of the past.

The battered watch Remus handed him more resembled a compass than a time-piece. The cardinal directions were all clearly marked, as were the four markers that moved within the circle of space, each marked by one of the Marauder's forms. They figures didn't appear to move on a fixed hand like a traditional compass or clock would - the stag, dog, and moon were all congregated at the middle of the face, playfully knocking into each other as they vied for position at the very center position, while the rat was somewhere to the northeast, but not quite as far as it would go.

When he looked away up at Remus, the man began his explanation. "It's a location device, as I'm sure you've guessed. Each of us had one. Your father and Sirius mostly used them in our pranks. Just another tool of the trade." A bittersweet smile spread across his face, making him look both younger and older in different ways. "We only had the one map, and it wasn't always wise to pull it out." He laughed a bit, more happiness leaking into his expression as he walked further down memory lane. "Plus, with your father running around invisible under that cloak of his, coordination could get a bit tricky. These let us know how near or far the others were, and in which direction."

Harry smiled to himself, picturing them trying to pull off some of the pranks he had read about in _Mischief Managed_. In his head, he saw his dad hiding under the cloak, trying to sneak up on Sirius while the latter watched the hand get closer on his own compass, lying in wait to surprise his dad instead, and Remus watching it all unfold on the Marauder's Map from a safe distance. Lupin pulled him from his happy visions, his voice heavier than before.

"We used them during the first war too, when there were fights or even just when we were on separate missions. It… was a comfort to me, to have some idea of where they were when I was on missions for the Order." He swallowed hard, "but I put mine away after what happened… I didn't even think of pulling it out again until I was teaching at Hogwarts and Sirius broke into the castle."

Harry looked back down, noticing the location of Wormtail's indicator. There were any number of places he could be, as a good deal of England was in that direction, but he assumed Wormtail was wherever Voldemort was. _We could find them_, Harry thought with a jolt, before realizing how pointless that would be. He was the only one who could take down Voldemort, and he wasn't ready yet. The maudlin thought was driven out by the central image again. His eyes fixated on the stag and dog, their locators indicating that they should have been there, standing with him. How he wished it were true.

"Why does it show them as being here?" Harry asked quietly.

"I was surprised by it too. I had thought that the other figures would have disappeared after they died," Remus said just as quietly. "I asked Dumbledore the same question - at the time it showed your father and Peter with us and Sirius nearby - and he told me that those we love never truly leave us. We keep them near us just by living for them."

Harry felt a tightness in his chest. Sirius had said almost the same thing to him once, that night they met. It was a truth he knew but was easy to forget. He pulled the object closer to him, vowing to himself to keep that truth closer to his heart. So many of the people he loved were gone - his parents he couldn't even remember - but they would always be with him. He could - and would - do his best to live for them.

He slipped it into his pocket as Ginny came down the stairs, fully dressed and lovelier than ever in the dress Fleur had purchased for her. The ring she wore shined in the light, but even that wasn't as bright as the dazzling smile that lit her face when she saw him standing there already looking at her. Her happiness mirrored his own, and his desire to truly live swelled until he thought he may burst with it.

"Tut, tut," she clicked, a teasing smile on her face. "You're slacking. I did all this," she gave a twirl for emphasis, the hem of her dress and hair both fanning out as she did so, "and you're still here covered in filth and stinking of mud."

Harry was still in awe of her display, unable to form a response. The glint in her eye - the same one she'd given him in the pond earlier before they'd almost gone too far - wasn't helping. Remus came to his aid.

"Apologies, Ginny," he said with mock solemnity, though he looked amused. "I must admit to being responsible for the delay. Finding Harry alone is becoming more and more difficult, I hear. It seemed wise to take the opportunity when it presented."

Harry was gratified to see the blush that stained Ginny's cheeks at his teasing comment. She still offered their former professor a genuine smile, "I guess that's excusable then." A look passed between the two that Harry didn't understand, but she turned to address him before he could think about it too much. "You really should hurry and get ready. Dinner will be soon, and we don't need the guest of honor being late, do we? Mum might die of nerves thinking you hated the party she planned."

"Your mum planned the party?" he asked in surprise. He thought it would have been Ginny's idea.

"Of course. You don't think I'd willingly share you with other people, do you?" she said in jest, an eyebrow raised.

He chuckled at the absurdity of it. He knew her well enough to know that she didn't fight this. He wouldn't be surprised if she had subtly suggested it and was just letting her mother believe that she had come up with the idea.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later and freshly showered, Harry returned to the ground floor wearing one of his nicer set of robes that Ginny had packed for him. It was far fancier than anything he'd worn at the Burrow before, but he was glad for it, not wanting to look like a beggar compared to Ginny in her dress. He paused in the sitting room to observe the Weasleys and their closest friends moving about the kitchen, but his eyes immediately found her among the throng, her flaming hair standing out in bright contrast to the shimmering fabric she wore. Yes, he was definitely glad he matched her tonight.

Two heavy arms on his shoulders, one from either side, made the smile drop from his face. It was never good when Fred and George settled on a target, and Harry thought it must be particularly bad if said target had just been ogling their baby sister.

"Well, well… what do we have here, George?" Harry tried not to flinch at the amusement in Fred's tone, knowing he was in for a ribbing. "It looks like little Harrykins isn't so little anymore," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. Harry tried to pull away, but George tightened his grip.

"Definitely not. If only that reporter from this morning could see him now..." George said, a put-on wistful quality to his words.

"What reporter?" Harry asked quickly. The twins could get carried away in their banter and this sounded important. He was ignored.

"I'll say. He looks rather smitten with his betrothed, does he not? He doesn't look trapped or miserable to me at all," Fred said matter-of-factly.

"I concur. Though, they'd probably find a way to spin that too. Suggest our lovely sister has him dosed with a love potion instead." George broke character and became serious as he added, "We might want to discontinue that line, actually."

Fred did too. "You're probably right. They don't need any more fodder for their accusations."

Harry had had enough and shrugged out from under them. He turned to face them with his arms crossed over his chest and leveled them with a glare. "What reporter?" From what he had gathered, said reporter had been bent on smearing Ginny's name, and he wasn't about to treat it as a joke.

"Nothing to worry about," George said. It would have appeared dismissive, if not for the hardness in his tone. "Just some young reporter looking for dirt to make a good story."

"We took care of it," Fred added. His malicious grin curled in a way that was almost feral. George mirrored the expression as he nodded beside him. As accustomed as Harry was to the twins being devilishly tricky, the malignant air about them now caught him off guard. Instead of pressing, he decided to trust that they had indeed taken care of it.

"If you're sure," he said, relaxing his posture. They nodded in unison. When they didn't offer anything further, he turned to make his way into the kitchen, "Right. Well, I should probably get in there."

"Whoa there," George said, gripping his shoulder before he could go. "We weren't done talking yet. You just distracted us."

"We hadn't gotten to the punchline yet, about how you're looking more and more like one of us every day," Fred said looking gleeful. He had just opened his mouth to continue when a shriek that undoubtedly belonged to Mrs. Weasley sounded from the kitchen.

Harry cringed at the outraged sound, but the twins looked at each other in expectation, totally unphased. Their matching grins only widened when their mother shouted their names.

"Fred and George Weasley! What have you _done? _Why is Harry's hair _red _on the clock!?" she yelled, bursting into the room carrying the Weasley clock. "It is his birthday present! How could you - _Oh_!" she cut off at the sight of him standing between her sons. She only hesitated for a moment before laying into them, calling them irresponsible, rude, and a slew of other things that would have made anyone less brave than the Weasley twins cower with fear. Harry himself missed most of it, trying to get a glimpse of the clock she was holding and what she had meant by his birthday present.

The doorway behind her filled with the partygoers who had been in the kitchen, all of them trying to get a good view for the drama that was unfolding. Ginny managed to slip in behind her mother, but stopped when she saw him. Her eyes momentarily went wide before amusement lit her face. She didn't laugh, though it looked like she was putting a lot of effort into containing it. "Well, that explains why your image changed," she said.

"Explains what? What did she mean about the clock and my hair?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Harry," she said, biting her cheek in an attempt to control herself. "Do you even know what they've done to you?" His puzzled expression must have been enough to tell her that he didn't, because she shook her head slightly and turned him around to face a small mirror on the mantle. "Sorry, love, but it seems they wanted to give you the full Weasley experience today."

Harry was startled to see red hair instead of black reflected back at him in the small surface. There has been a small wave of discomfort when Fred had ruffled his hair, but he had dismissed it as nerves as the time. Now, he realized it had probably been some joke product taking effect. As strange as it was to see himself that way, he was drawn back into Mrs. Weasley's words when he saw her reflection in the corner of the mirror.

"- and now the surprise is _ruined_!" she said in frustration, turning the clock back around to face the twins.

Harry quickly turned around to look, barely containing his surprise and hope at what he thought was going on. Sure enough, there was a tenth hand on the clock, and though the hair was red instead of black, he still recognized his own green eyes and glasses on it. Through the swell of emotion that rose in him, he managed to look at Mrs. Weasley and ask, "You added me to the clock?" His quiet tone meant that only she and Ginny could hear him over the commotion of laughter and questions being traded between the others.

The anger slipped away from her entirely, leaving only tenderness as she looked at him. Her eyes were teary as she reached out and rubbed both his arms. "We did. I would have done it years ago if it had been possible. The Black magic gives you a relation to me now, so I was finally able to do it. You're one of mine, Harry. You belong there." He went willingly as she pulled him into a heartfelt embrace, allowing himself to show his gratitude through the strong way he returned it. After several deep breaths, he was composed when they pulled back, and relieved to note that no one but Ginny had been paying them any mind.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dinner and the remainder of his gifts had been presented and witnessed without further incident and his hair had even reverted back to its normal color, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief. Now the entire family was a swell of happy noise and activity around him as love and laughter passed between its members in various forms. Ron was being pestered by the twins while Hermione pretended to be above it all, but looked away to let out a laugh. Mrs. Weasley was clearing away the remaining plates and offering to cut Bill's hair again - probably because Fleur was currently running her fingers through it. Percy and Mr. Weasley spoke to one another quietly - things clearly not fully patched up, but the effort being made by both parties demonstrating how much they cared. Ginny was at his side, providing the perfect mixture of excitement and comfort, watching them all with a satisfied smile.

"I should go save Bill from Mum," Ginny said. "I think Fleur would appreciate the break as well."

Harry looked around again and took a closer look at the couple's expressions. Fleur's lips were starting to thin like McGonagall's when she was angry, and Bill was wearing an increasingly uncomfortable look as his mother continued to suggest life changes he should make. Harry didn't think drawing her mother's attention to herself was wise, but he felt pretty bad for the guy too.

"They probably would, yeah."

Ginny must have been unsure of her plan herself, because she hesitated. "Will you come save me if I'm not free of her in fifteen minutes?" she asked, only half joking.

He laughed. "Of course."

She smiled brightly in return. "Good." She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "I was hoping to sneak away for just a little bit before we have to go. I want to show you something." His pulse sped up, but before he could get too swept away into his fantasies, she sighed and made her way to her mother.

The lack of her heat against his side cooled him down, though some of the warmth lingered as he watched her. One sentence was all it took for Ginny to get her mother's attention fully diverted. She let out a sigh as if disappointed, but the wink she sent him said otherwise. Bill saw and tipped his drink at her in thanks before turning his attention to his much happier looking fiancee. Ginny rolled her eyes at them, but he didn't miss the lift of her cheeks or the softness in her expression that gave her away. It was catching these little signs that made Harry love watching her so much.

He didn't look away from her until she moved the family clock from the counter to the table, directly into his line of vision. The black hair of his likeness stood out amongst a sea of red on the face of the clock from where it now sat proudly on the table. The anomaly didn't look like a trespasser though, as the red surrounded and encompassed the black as though welcoming him as an inherent part of their own. The Weasley's had always done that for him, he realized. They had done their best to pick up the slack that his lack of family left him with, even from the very beginning.

Mrs. Weasley had helped him find the train when he was alone. Fred and George helped him load his things when he was too small to do it himself. Ron had had his back and been a brother to him, as much as Sirius had been to his father. They had sent him thoughtful Christmas gifts that he had no need to earn. The youngest brothers had flown a magical car - one whose existence could have lost their father his livelihood - to rescue him and their parents had welcomed him into their home without hesitation despite it all. Countless instances flew through his mind of all the ways they supported and looked after him, all leading to a conclusion that he had both known and not fully understood until now: they really were his family, and they loved him the way he loved them.

They'd always included him, but he counted himself separate. He'd been so used to the idea that he was alone that he'd missed the truth. Even now, to his right Ron was asking him to back him up in something he said to the twins that Harry had missed and Ginny was to his left, smiling at him from across the room as Percy joined in on her mother's pestering of her and Bill and Fleur laughed surreptitiously at the drama, while Harry sat at the center of it all.

It was a heavy feeling, one he wasn't prepared to examine in the boisterous atmosphere of the kitchen. Fred turning Ron's hair green provided him with the opportunity to slip out the back door quietly and unnoticed.

His feet took him through the dark garden to the patch of poppies Ginny had shown him earlier. The moonlight illuminated them enough that he could still see their bright red petals and black centers, like the scene in the kitchen being repeated a hundred times over. He sank down beside them, his hand drifting over them in a way that allowed him to just briefly feel their softness on each pass.

Quiet footsteps indicated the presence of someone approaching. He couldn't tell whose they were, aside from being able to tell that they didn't belong to Ginny. He ruled out any of the boys as well, judging from the calm, measured sound.

Mr. Weasley came into view, his countenance as sedate as his pace had been. "Hello, Harry. Enjoying the evening?" Even his voice was calm - still waters as opposed to the bubbling stream in the kitchen.

"Yeah," he replied. The quiet peace of the garden was a necessary break, but that didn't diminish his appreciation for having his loved ones come together to celebrate his existence. "Thank you, for all of it. I know it must have been a lot of effort to coordinate."

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly. "Not at all, son." Harry's throat tightened at the word. The man had called him that before, but he'd never truly thought the term was anything more than a phrase. Now it seemed like so much more. "I'm sorry if it's a bit much… we're a rowdy lot. I'm afraid between Molly and I, the kids never quite learned how to do things by halves." The Weasley patriarch gave a self-deprecating shrug, but his expression was one of pride mingled with humor.

Harry smiled in response, feeling eased by the shift in the conversation. "It's been brilliant. Everyone has been great, sir."

"I think we've moved past this 'sir' business, don't you? You're practically a man now. How about you call me Arthur?"

Harry weighed the idea briefly, "Sure, Arthur." It felt strange coming off his tongue, but also good, like he'd earned something. Pride made the silence that followed comfortable.

Arthur cleared his throat and Harry looked at him in question. The man looked a bit uncomfortable, but plowed forward once he had Harry's attention. "I actually came out here to apologize if you feel like we've overstepped in any way." Harry's face twisted with confusion. "With the gift…" he clarified.

That didn't help Harry's confusion. He'd loved the clock hand. What it represented meant so much to him that it had overwhelmed him to the point that he needed to slip out here to let it settle in private.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "You've always been a private and independent person, Harry. Molly and I have always thought of you as one of our own, and when she realized she could have a physical representation of that, she was just so excited to share it with you that I don't think she realized that it could be a violation of your privacy. Tracking your movements like that. I hope you know that you can tell me, if it's too much. I-"

"Mr. Weasley," Harry interjected quickly. Now that he understood, he wanted to set the record straight. At the man's expectant look, he corrected himself, "Arthur." Arthur smiled and Harry took that as encouragement to carry on. "There is nothing to apologize for. It's not - I'm not upset. Not at all. It's… incredible. Truly." He paused, weighing how to continue. "It's more… I've never…" he sighed as he tried to will the words into existence. "This whole day has been like something out of someone else's life."

"In a good way, I hope?" Ginny questioned as she approached.

He hadn't heard her, but that wasn't a surprise given her light tread. She was always there when he least expected. When she came into view, the knowing look she gave him made his heart speed up.

"The best way," he promised, warmth spreading through him at the sight of her. The moon illuminated her just enough that he could see the happy approval on her face at his confirmation.

"I'm glad," she said. She stopped to give her father a kiss on the cheek as she passed, but took a seat beside Harry. "You know, I was all prepared to come out and give you a hard time for failing to rescue me, but since you were busy talking to Dad, I suppose I can let you slide." She looked between them. "Everything alright out here?"

"All good, Pumpkin," her father said, smiling at his daughter. "I should go make sure your mother isn't giving the boys too difficult a time. Don't stay out too long, alright?"

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Before he turned to go, Harry said, "Thank you, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley left with a warm nod. When he was out of sight, Ginny turned to Harry with a raised brow. He didn't need her to ask.

"He asked me to." He was grateful for the darkness as his cheeks heated. "It's a bit strange."

"I think it's good," she replied. There was no teasing in her voice, just honest endorsement.

She scooted closer and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The night was balmy, leaving him no excuse other than that he liked the feel of her tucked there close against him. She wasn't the least bit opposed, nestling herself closer and tilting her head up to kiss his jawline. It sent a hum through him that urged him to lean forward and capture her lips against his properly.

The dreamy look she wore filled him with pride, but he didn't want to get carried away before heading back into the kitchen where the rest of her family waited.

"So…" he began quietly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility they'd found. Her eyes slowly opened, the moonlight caught in them making her look ethereal once more in a way that had him briefly losing his train of thought. It came back to him as the emotions shifted in her eyes. "You said you wanted to show me something."

Her response was just as quiet. "I did." She shifted slightly, tilting her head back to look at the clear sky. Eyes still turned up , she said, "It's too early though. We may be able to see it just before dawn." Sheepishly, she added, "I probably should have paid more attention in astronomy."

Harry had only a brief moment of confusion as he looked at the various constellations above them before it clicked. "Sirius? You wanted to look for Sirius together."

Her head went back to resting on his shoulder, her hair puffing up and resting against his neck like a caress as she nodded. "I miss him. It seemed like a good way to remember that he'll always be here watching over us, even if we can't always see him."

"It is," he assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The scent of her hair mingled with the scents of garden around them and peace settled over him like a blanket, wrapping around the two of them and insulating their tranquil corner from the rest of the world.

He was fairly confident they wouldn't be able to find the dog star this time of year no matter what time they looked, but the idea was comforting none-the-less. He didn't need to see it to know it was there - that Sirius was there - standing guard and looking out for them. The proof that Remus had provided him wasn't even necessary. He already knew it, could feel Sirius's presence in the waves of change his godfather had brought into his life during their brief time together.

It all came down to love. Love, family, and sacrifice all woven together like of tapestry of decisions and choices that came together to create something immeasurably stronger than the individual threads themselves. Some had been painful, others excruciating, but none were without meaning. He wouldn't be here in this moment where he had so much to be thankful for without each one.

He hoped Sirius, and his parents too, knew how grateful he was for the life they had given him as he looked up at the night sky. It may not be possible tonight, but he knew exactly where he could find the dog star from the view in the Astronomy tower during the winter, and promised he'd thank Sirius properly when the time came. For now, he settled for sending a silent thank you and promising himself that he wouldn't forget again.

There was no doubt more darkness and loss to come. Ginny's small but strong form fit against his in perfect alignment, reminding him that he wouldn't be alone for whatever came and filled him with new strength and determination. Here in the garden, the two of them tucked quietly away from the madness of the rest of the world and surrounded by reminders that everything lost had not been in vain, he felt like they would find a way to pull through and carry on no matter what they faced.


	24. Chapter 21

**AN: Another chapter we have Luke to thank for editing, just because he knew I wanted to post early. Thank you!**

Harry's birthday had been a resounding success as far as Ginny was concerned. Harry had laughed, smiled, and all-around enjoyed himself far more than she had any right to expect given it was such a small gathering, but it had lifted her spirits to see him so. The feeling of euphoria had carried her through the late night and into slumber, still lingering in her limbs as she woke later than usual the next morning.

She realized rather quickly that it was not _just_ the high from the previous day that had her tingling all over, but also the feel of Harry's fingers gently running through her hair. She let out a hum of approval at the sensation that quickly turned into a groan when he froze at the sound. "Don't stop," she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Feels good." She nuzzled her head against his hand to prompt him to continue.

His movements resumed as he released a deep, throaty chuckle that further warmed her. She blinked the sleep away from her eyes to better see him, pleased at the warm smile on his face when she did. Without her intention, a matching one lifted her own cheeks. "Hi." It was a stupid greeting, but his smile further widened.

"Hi yourself," he said, eyes sparkling and amusement in his tone. "Nice to see you awake."

"Hmm… I wonder why that is? It couldn't be because someone disturbed my slumber, could it?" she returned the gentle teasing with an arched brow.

He didn't look abashed in the slightest - something that proved just how far they'd come - as he defended, "Not my fault your hair is so attractive." He ran his hand from her scalp to the ends slowly. "There are so many colors in it already, but in the sun it practically glows."

A blush bloomed at the borderline reverence in his tone, but embarrassment couldn't quell the happiness that swelled inside her. For all that she had considered what might happen after the betrothal was announced, even her wildest imaginations had never considered this kind of bliss was possible. It was a fight to override her natural inclination to brush off the compliment, but she forced herself to return his openness by replying, "Thank you."

"It's true. You don't need to thank me for that." Harry shrugged, but didn't take his eyes off her as he continued his play, this time pulling it forward over her shoulder so that it fell between them.

"Still," she said leaning forward to kiss him.

The gentle kiss turned into two, then three, before igniting into a fire that had them shifting closer, limbs entangled as their tongues joined in a dance that they had quickly perfected. The demand for air, and a necessary break to cool off before things got out of control, saved them from being caught in a lip-lock when Fleur and Bill walked through the open door. As it was, the way they were pressed up against one another was borderline indecent, despite how quickly they managed to extricate themselves.

"Damn it, Ginny!" Bill exclaimed, averting his eyes while Fleur laughed, unphased. He continued lecturing, "What is wrong with you? I thought with the door open you'd have some sense of decency. Anyone could have walked in and seen that."

Harry looked absolutely mortified, cheeks as red as hers usually were and eyes wide. Ginny sympathized - a small part of her wanted to pull the covers over both of them and pretend the last few moments hadn't happened - but she fought her own embarrassment back in an effort to control the situation. Fleur's presence and the humor she so clearly found in the situation helped, and Ginny grasped at it.

"Well, not _anyone_. Just Weasleys and a select few others," she said airily. Inspiration struck. "Besides, Bill, I've seen you doing much worse. Annabella in the Orchard, summer after seventh year, ring any bells?"

Bill didn't become flustered like she had hoped. He glared instead. "That was different. I was of age and not in bed unsupervised."

"It _was _different. You were unsupervised in the orchard where your kid sister could stumble across you copping a feel," she countered.

Fleur came to her rescue, just as she hoped. "Oh, Bill!" she exclaimed in exaggerated horror. "Corrupting minors? Have you no decency?"

Harry seemed to have recovered a bit. "You mean like you and Roger Davies in the garden at the Yule Ball?" he teased Fleur.

"Spying isn't very gentlemanly, Harry," the older girl scolded, the amusement in her tone belying her words.

"It's not considered spying if it's in the open. You didn't seem particularly concerned about privacy then," Harry quipped back.

Fleur chuckled then, Harry and Ginny joining in. A quick glance at her brother showed that he was not amused. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, pointedly directing the question at Fleur instead of her grouchy brother.

He still answered first. His jaw tensed as he said, "What's wrong with me is that I just found my little sister - ".

"You are not helping, Bill," Fleur cut in, sending him a fierce look that cut off his rant. She turned back to Ginny and Harry. "There were several attacks last night. We were aiding in the recovery efforts this morning, but Dumbledore sent us back here to work with you."

"So he's sent you to put us off again then?" Ginny asked, not bothering to hide her frustration.

"He said you'd be unhappy," Bill said. The look he gave her was one of judgment. "It's bad, Ginny. He's an important person in the wizarding world. People look to him. He can't just come whenever you call."

"Don't treat me like a bratty child," Ginny snapped, her good mood long gone. "You have no idea what we're trying to accomplish."

Harry straightened beside her. "She's right. Things like this will just keep happening until we get this figured out. To do that, we need to actually meet with Dumbledore."

Bill looked ready to argue some more, until Fleur placed a calming hand on his arm. Soothingly, she said, "We have talked about this. You are not angry at them. You know that."

He visibly relaxed, the tense set of his jaw and shoulders dissipating slowly, and blew out a breath. Ginny couldn't help thinking that perhaps the couple was more well matched than she had given them credit for before.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I've seen a lot of twisted things in Egypt, but this morning was…" he trailed off with a grimace, leaving the horrors the Death Eaters had wrought unsaid.

Ginny felt her stomach clench at the world they now lived in, counting herself lucky not to have seen it. As much as she wanted to help, she knew the reality of it would be much worse than she could imagine. In a deep, dark corner of her mind, a door rattled, reminding her that things of this nature already lurked there ready to be seen if only she would let them out. She shied away from that knowledge, gripping Harry's hand and turning her entire focus on Fleur.

Satisfied, Fleur turned her attention back to them. "Part of the reason he asked us here is to test your Occlumency progress, particularly after physical training."

With more calm than he had shown since he arrived, Bill said grimly, "The idea is to simulate how you'd hold up to a Legilimency attack if you were in battle."

"Well, that's reassuring," Harry said wryly.

Despite everything, she laughed, comforted.

XXXXXXXXXXX

By the time they had gotten ready and made their way to the kitchen, it was already a hive of activity. Her mum was in the storage room, gathering ingredients and pre-made potions alike, sending them by magic to Andromeda Tonks who was brewing at several cauldrons in the corner, providing directions to Hermione who stood at her side organizing everything. A wizard Ginny didn't know was stationed there as well, preparing ingredients as they came without instruction.

Bill and Fleur stood by the large hearth, providing basic triage to injured persons as they waited for whatever was being brewed. Judging by the pallor of their faces, she assumed at least one of those potions was a blood replenisher. One wizard cradled a clearly broken hand, probably his wand hand, because his expression was contorted painfully until Fleur came upon him and cast a numbing charm on it.

She and Harry shared a wide-eyed look, neither understanding what had happened, but said nothing as they made their way to the end of the table furthest from the action. Ron was there, laying out more food before sitting tiredly.

"What's going on?" Harry asked immediately. "I thought the attacks happened last night."

"They did," Ron responded. "Things were a bit busier than normal this morning, but it was just people checking in, passing along messages about what they'd found. Ten minutes ago everything went wild. Dedalus Diggle was fire-calling and it sounded like an explosion went off in the background." He cast a wary glance at the chaos around them. "Next thing you know, we're being flooded with injured. Best I can figure, the attack sites were used as traps of some kind. Either they were rigged or there were secondary attacks. Either way…" he trailed off, waving a hand in the direction of the madness.

The weight of what was happening settled over them swiftly. It was dirty and disgusting - laying secondary traps for those who came to aid the injured was a clear attempt to make people too afraid to help. Given who the opposing side was, it wasn't surprising, but still disturbing.

She and Harry shared another look. Beneath the grimness on the surface of his face, she saw the same rage building in him that she felt. Things had taken a turn for the worst, and they couldn't sit by and continue to let it happen. When their time came, they needed to be ready.

They didn't bother helping themselves to what little remained of the food, neither remotely hungry with the new knowledge and feeling it was best saved for the members of the Order. It was clear people would continue to come and go. Within two minutes of sitting down, she saw no less than five people do so, as well as three updates by fire call.

Her mother emerged from the storage room soon thereafter, her alert gaze landing on Ginny almost immediately. "There you are," she said, sweeping toward them.

As she came closer, Ginny saw a fire in her mum's eyes that Ginny had never witnessed before - one of fury boiling just beneath the surface - that was accentuated by the harsh set of her jaw and determined demeanor. She didn't have time to ask before her mother began speaking with purpose. "We need beds. Hogwarts is full with the worst of the injured and anyone who is not privy to the location of Headquarters. Those who can have gone to Saint Mungos. These are the Order members who aren't wounded enough to need Hogwarts, but can't risk the hospital." Ginny's brow rose at that. It seemed like the Order had grown quite a bit since last summer. She didn't have time to think about it as her mother was still speaking. "Can you get Kreacher to open up the second floor at the very least?"

"Of course," Ginny replied quickly.

In less than a minute, the deed was done, though Kreacher had all but begged to keep the drawing room closed off. Given that he had been storing all the Black heirlooms he could find in there, she'd seen no reason to argue on that front. She was about to dismiss him when her mother stopped her.

"We've wiped the storeroom and kitchen of all the basic supplies. Are there any more?" her mother asked Kreacher.

He shook his head, his wrinkly ears flapping as he did so. "Kreacher can purchase the replacements himself if Mistress Ginevra allows it."

"Please," she said, without hesitation. "Do you need my Gringotts key? It's upstairs, but you can take it."

"Take mine," Harry said. "Get as much as you can." The forcefulness in his tone had her looking over at him. The rage was closer to the surface now, and she understood that he needed to do this to feel like he was helping somehow. He didn't wait for Kreacher to acquiesce before turning to her mum and asking, "What can we do to help?"

Ginny nodded at Kreacher before turning to her mother as well.

She paused, glancing about at the activity once more. Bill and Fleur had handled almost all the current injured as best they could. Ron had gone to help Hermione. Even Percy was there now, his head bobbing in and out of the green flames in the hearth, grim-faced as he made various calls and took notes on a piece of parchment beside him. Various others tended to their own jobs, the situation appearing tense, but well-handled.

Casting only a sideways glance, she told them, "There are cots in the attic. Levitate as many as you can fit down and get them set up." She looked at Ginny directly then, "You remember the spell for bedding? For sanitizing and laying out?"

Ginny nodded. It was bad for the fabric, which is why they preferred washing by hand, but her mother always used it when one of them was injured and there was no time to assure they were clean enough to prevent infection.

"Good. Go do that now. I have a feeling Madame Pomfrey may be sending the overflow our way soon."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Hours passed in a frenzied, exhausting blur. Kreacher returned with more supplies than they had hoped for, doubling their original stock of ingredients and tripling their supply of bottled remedies. In the afternoon, Fred and George arrived and joined in with the crew brewing more potions for the next time something like this happened. As cynical as it was, the belief that this would indeed happen again was an unspoken truth between them all. By the time they finished their brewing, Percy was just finishing his task of cataloguing all the injured, missing, and dead. It was a list she wasn't ready to see.

She and Harry had spent the better part of the day helping tend to the worst of the injured staying at Headquarters. It was simple things, like bringing their potions, food, or drink, or even adjusting blankets, but at least bringing people some form of relief felt productive in a way. These people had been injured helping others and deserved to be cared for with as much appreciation as possible.

After a quick dinner of soup and bread, Bill and Fleur found them again in their room. With the rooms on the second floor being taken up by the convalescents, Hermione had been moved to stay in the study with a cot and her parents across the hall from them and into the room that once belonged to Regulus. Percy had even elected to stay, moving into Ron's room in Harry's old space. With the house so full, their room was the most practical place for privacy and they settled in, she and Harry on the edge of their bed while Bill and Floor sat together on the chest.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Bill offered immediately. "I was frustrated, but after what happened… I'm glad we were here," he said, wrapping an arm around Fleur who gave him a tired but proud smile. "And I reckon you're right. Whatever you two are doing with Dumbledore, if it's part of stopping this from happening again, we need to focus on it."

"Thank you," she said, accepting the apology. Tentatively, she said, "Are we supposed to be training first? Because I haven't spoken to Neville in days. He's probably still at his great uncle's place. We can't exactly go there."

"Can we go to the Burrow?" Harry asked. "It seemed safe enough yesterday."

Bil exchanged a look with Fleur. "It probably is, but given everything that's happened today, I don't think that would be wise. Even if only for Mum's peace of mind."

"We do not need to go anywhere," Fleur said. "It is late and has been a long, trying day as it is. That should be enough to allow me to test properly. That is what Dumbledore wanted, to see how far you had progressed in your Occlumency."

"Right," Ginny said, her throat constricting.

If he wanted Fleur to test them, it could only mean that he was getting ready to finally tell them the truth. While that was good - Ginny had all but forced him to do so - it also meant that the time had come to hand over what memories Tom Riddle had left her. She was already uncomfortably aware that they were closer to the surface than usual after today.

Something must have given her away, because Harry placed a hand on her back and began rubbing small circles there. It helped more than she could say. "I'll go first," he volunteered.

"It's fine," she said quickly, leaning forward. "I'd rather get it out of the way."

Harry acquiesced without argument, moving to the side with Bill so as not to interrupt the two women.

The first two attempts Fleur made went well for Ginny, and she managed to keep her out entirely. The third time, Fleur was able to enter her mind quickly, but Ginny pushed her out before she could see anything. The fourth was worse, with Fleur managing to glimpse a few things. The fifth time it all went to hell.

By that attempt, she was completely exhausted and wasn't able to keep Fleur out at all, and the older girl slipped freely into her mind. It wasn't so much a physical space that she could see, but more an expanse that she felt existed without shape, sight, or sound. Despite the lack of sensory input to the place, or perhaps because of it, Fleur's foreign presence was acutely obvious to her.

Allowed free access, Fleur began drifting through her mind, looking at anything and everything that had yet to be tucked away safely. For the most part, it was only the events of the morning. Ginny studiously practice her Occlumency by filing away her memories each night, so someone as unfamiliar with the landscape as Fleur was would need a great deal of time to locate where they had been stored in the blank expanse.

These thoughts and memories, as yet unsorted, were easily found and explored, however. Ginny felt Fleur's curiosity flare as she picked the one of Ginny observing Bill and Fleur tending to the injured in the kitchen that morning. She grimaced as Fleur picked up on the small thread of her thought of the memories she had locked away. The triumphant feelings radiating off Fleur increased Ginny's trepidation. This wasn't how they usually did things.

"Fleur," she called in warning. The older girl's presence didn't stop, however, and kept following the thread deeper and deeper into Ginny's mind and closer to that hidden door. "_Fleur," _she shouted in warning again. If she hadn't already fought off so many attacks before this, perhaps she could have formed some further defense, but as it was, she was too tired to do more than follow along and try to beat back her rising panic.

It mounted relentlessly until they finally reached the hidden door that radiated darkness. The metaphorical door rattled, those thoughts and memories strengthened by what she had seen that day and more desperate than ever for escape. When Fleur reached out closer to the barricade, Ginny snapped, and the wave of emotion launched them both forcefully from her mind.

Fleur was thrown backward off the chest, but Harry was there preventing Ginny from falling. She squeezed her eyes closed and cradled her head in a fruitless attempt to push back the ringing in her ears and the searing pain in her temples. When Harry's worried questions began to penetrate the fog of discomfort, she tried to sit up. He helped her with gentle movements. As grateful as she was for his help, her first words were not directed at him.

"What the hell was that?" Ginny demanded of Fleur, rising off the bed to her feet. It made her feel more in control, even though her head swam dizzily and she trembled at the outrage she felt..

Fleur looked much worse off than Ginny would have expected. Bill appeared to be holding her upright where she sat. Despite the pain she must have been in, her voice was calm. "Dumbledore asked me to check your defenses and assess your ability to hide things. I needed to know if that door was just for show or if it would serve as actual resistance. Clearly, it was the latter."

"Dumbledore asked you to invade her privacy?" Harry asked angrily, stepping forward slightly. The look he was giving Fleur was icy, and Ginny was grateful that he didn't need to ask questions to understand that the other girl had crossed a line.

"Relax," Bill ordered, coming to his fiancee's defense. "Testing your limits is what she's supposed to be doing as your tutor."

"_That_ does not happen with a simple test," Harry retorted, his jaw tight with tension. "_That_ only happens when someone is pushed too far and they are protecting themselves. Don't try to tell me that was the same thing we've been doing. I had to deal with Snape. I know exactly what an attack looks like."

"The whole point of this is to be able to defend yourselves from that kind of attack," Fleur said. She tried to continue, but Ginny had heard enough.

"Get out," she interrupted as she sat back down. The anger had drained away in the struggle that was her weak mind trying to keep the memories from escaping their prison. She was too exhausted to deal with any of it.

"Excuse me?" Bill asked, affronted.

She couldn't answer this time, closing her eyes to focus on beating back the thoughts and the pain alike.

"You heard her," Harry said from closer than before. His hands slipped over her shoulders and she knew he must have positioned himself behind her in a show of solidarity. "Go."

She heard Fleur murmur something before their footsteps retreated and the door clicked close. Relieved to be free of them, she allowed herself to let out a groan as she fell backwards onto the inviting bed.

The mattress dipped beneath her as Harry joined her. The movement increased the pain and made her feel slightly nauseous, but her grunt of discomfort turned into a moan as he slipped his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp. He didn't speak until she opened her eyes once more.

There was anger there, but predominantly worry and concern for her. It immediately helped chase away the pain, confusion and anger that still lingered.

"I'm alright," she said softly. "Thank you."

Some of the worry faded and he gave her a smile than didn't quite reach his eyes. It fell quickly, replaced by conflict. "What happened exactly?"

She gingerly sat, grateful for his help as he guided her shoulders up. A moment later, she realized sitting wasn't wise as a shooting pain in her temple erupted once she was fully upright. Harry didn't miss her wince and scooted to the head of the bed. She went willingly to his side when he lifted an arm and motioned for her to join him. His fingers resumed rubbing at her temples until she relaxed again.

When she felt better, she answered his earlier question. "Fleur was just… digging into the deepest parts of my mind. The parts I keep locked away, even from myself." A shiver went through her as the door in her mind rattled again, recognizing how close she was to thinking about those dark memories. "She's never done that before."

"You know," he began thoughtfully after a few moments hesitation, "we never got around to talking about the memories that Dumbledore asked you for."

Her heart sped up again. _Of course Harry would understand what that meant. _Only his gentle ministrations prevented her from freezing entirely. She still couldn't bring herself to speak though. There was a reason she hadn't brought it up. She didn't want to talk about it. Not until the absolute last possible moment.

"I know we were busy… and that you probably don't want to," he said gently, "but it may help. You can tell me anything, as little or as much as you want."

She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, holding it for several long seconds before blowing it out. Maybe he was right. She knew she could tell him anything, just as she knew that she wasn't ready to look at them again. She decided to settle for the basics. He waited patiently, his fingers continuing to soothe the ache.

"I - I told you that I remembered things, after." She felt his nod. "Before that, I didn't remember any of the possessions, just the things he wanted me to know." She scowled in disgust at herself. "But none of it was the way he made it seem. It was just a bunch of bits and pieces taken out of context to make me believe what he wanted me to believe."

Harry hummed in agreement. "Like when he showed me him catching Hagrid."

She flinched. The conversation between Tom and Harry in the Chamber had come back to her in her nightmares as well the summer following the incident. "I'm sorry. I should have taken it back from you sooner," she said regretfully.

The hand in her hair froze, while the either tightened its grasp around hers. "No," he said forcefully. She could hear his teeth grind together before he relaxed and said slowly, "No. You shouldn't have had that horrible thing as long as you did. Definitely not for longer. I was fine." He didn't give her a chance to respond before prodding, "So you didn't remember anything before the diary was destroyed?"

She sighed. "Not from before the Chamber." That morning she had finally worked up the courage to do something about the diary. She couldn't seem to form the words in front of anyone, but she thought she could at least leave it for Dumbledore with a note saying it was evil. Unfortunately for her, she and Tom had become so intertwined by then that he could read her intentions without being told and decided she had outlived her usefulness.

Gathering her courage, she voiced for the first time the events that led her into that horrible place she was sure she was going to die in.

"He knew I was going to give him away, so he took over. He must have wanted me to know that he was beating me though, because I was awake the whole time, just a spectator in my own body while he pulled the strings. He explained everything, like he did with you, drawing it out. He… he enjoys others' fear and despair." She shivered. He _more_ than enjoyed it. He almost fed off of it. "He showed me things then and told me that caring was a weakness. That it was what would kill me and what would kill you too."

Harry squeezed her shoulder in comfort. He dropped a kiss on the top of her hair and she felt his breath saturate the roots there as he spoke. "It didn't though. We're still here and he isn't."

"No, but I never completely got rid of him. We were so tangled together by the time you destroyed the diary that I have these bits and flashes of memories that belonged to him. The ones that were most important to him, I think."

He let that settle for a few minutes, doing nothing more than being attentive. She was grateful that he didn't try to apologize for once.

"Thank you," she said after a long period of silence, "for letting me work through that and not pushing."

"Anytime, Gin. I'll always be here if you need me."

She snuggled further into his embrace, reassured by the warmth in his voice.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dumbledore arrived shortly after that. Despite the late hour, it was still far too soon for Ginny's liking.

He looked as tired and defeated as nearly everyone else, but he gave them a brief smile in greeting as Kreacher led him into their room.

As selfish as it was, Ginny was already tired of having other people in their space. Not that she resented any of the victims in residence for being there, just that she wished she could have the study again so that she could keep their room private. It was theirs, the one place the rest of the world didn't intrude upon - at least until today. She swallowed the bitterness down, however, and greeted the man as kindly as she could.

Dumbledore looked about briefly before conjuring himself a plush chair. She could visibly see the relief on his face as he sat. "Forgive me, children. I am not as young as I once was and these old joints do not sustain abuse in the same manner they once did."

Ginny nodded once in acknowledgement, her mounting nerves not allowing much else. Harry picked up her slack and responded for both of them. "It's no problem, sir."

"Thank you for your absolution," he said with only a hint of his usual humor before his expression faded back into sober lines. "I hope you will be as understanding about my desire to solely discuss my reason for coming tonight and my inability to answer any questions you may have about what happened earlier today. All I have to say on the matter is that I'm very proud of all that you did to support our allies. Your hospitality and generosity helped more people than I can say, but there is still much for me to do before the night is through."

She and Harry shared a look, but nodded in agreement simultaneously. The influx of injured that had been through Grimmauld place had been mad enough, and they both knew Hogwarts had seen even worse. Dumbledore likely had other things to attend to as well.

"My primary objective tonight is to discuss the memories you have, Miss Black," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "However, the first order of business to attend to is your Occlumency. Miss Delacour has explained to me what happened earlier. I was rather impressed to find you were capable of protecting parts of your mind so effectively." Ginny had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him. It simply wasn't worth it right now. "But it seems, Harry, that you have yet to be thoroughly tested as well. Since you are no longer interested in continuing your sessions with Miss Delacour, I would like to assess your progress now, if that is agreeable to you."

Harry's expression was tinted with anger, but he nodded and allowed Dumbledore to cast the spell. It was only moments later that the headmaster withdrew from his mind, though she doubted it was because Harry had repelled him. The defiant look on his face told her that as plainly as if he had said it himself.

"While your feelings may be justified, that is hardly a fair accusation," Dumbledore said evenly. "Miss Delacour did exactly what she was meant to. She tested your defenses and assessed strengths and weaknesses. I did not, nor would I, give her instructions to search for anything in particular." He gave them a direct look. "It was not my intention to cause a rift between you. To do so would be contradictory to what I have always sought to achieve - unity. We are all on the same side and we must remain united if we are to win this war."

Some anger still lingered at the violation Fleur had committed earlier, but she didn't doubt his sincerity in this. Dumbledore had always encouraged unity amongst the students at Hogwarts, and she knew he truly did want them to defeat Voldemort. He wouldn't have intentionally done anything to jeopardize their success.

Resigned, she linked her fingers with Harry's. "We understand, sir," she said calmly, squeezing Harry's hand in encouragement. She felt him relax before he nodded in agreement.

"Should we go again, Professor?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore agreed and performed the spell again, this time with Harry's focus on the task. It seemed to take quite a bit of effort on Harry's part - his hand was gripping hers painfully by the end and she fancied she could feel him using all his magic to keep the headmaster out - but he managed. When they broke apart, Dumbledore looked suitably pleased.

"Well done, Harry." Pride suffused his tone. "While you still have room for improvement, you have done remarkably well in a short period of time, especially given your previous struggles with the subject."

"Thank you, sir." Harry looked so pleased at the praise that Ginny was almost distracted from what was to come next. _Almost._

Dumbledore's blue eyes turned to her and all hope for levity vanished.

She didn't wait for him to explain. She already knew and there was no sense dragging it out. "What do I do?" She considered it a small victory that her words sounded much braver than she felt.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "What I would like for you to do is simple. Close your eyes and focus on your mind." She forced herself to listen to his instructions. _The sooner you do this, the sooner it will end, and the closer you'll be to having answers, _she encouraged herself. "Very good. Now find the place where the memories are kept and pull them out one by one, if you can. I will remove a copy of each as you do so."

Doing what she had been told, she retreated into the familiar space that represented her mind. She opened the door as cautiously as possible, praying she could keep the demons that lurked behind it under control if she only allowed a small crack through which they could escape. She was not so lucky.

Given the small measure of freedom, the memories burst forth from the room with a force she hadn't fully anticipated. They were a flood of darkness, threatening to drown her in twisted visions and malicious thoughts that were not her own.

The process of extracting the memories helped create a sense of distance between her and them that allowed her to breath, but it wasn't fast enough to suppress the trauma from resurfacing. The shadow of each one still remained behind, leaving her caught in the current of wave after wave of shadowy images and brief glimpses of things no eleven year old should ever bear witness to.

There were children younger than even she was being tortured, morbid fascination as Myrtle fell dead under the basilisk's gaze, a family of well-dressed muggles dead at the feet of Tom Riddle, a haggard and mad looking wizard staring up at Tom's cold face in shock and outrage, her own abduction and near death, as well as Harry's, and so many more that her mind couldn't even process.

She wanted to, at least for the sole reason that she didn't want to risk having to go through this again if she did it wrong, but her entire being shied away from the tide instinctively.

Through the overwhelming panic she felt at what was happening, she still managed to recognize Dumbledore's presence when he joined her and she welcomed it with every fiber of her being. She felt his shock as he sensed what she had kept hidden for so long, but he quickly did whatever it was that needed to be done and pulled them both from her mind.

She came back to herself shivering in Harry's arms and tears streaming down her face. Her skin was crawling.

With jerky movements, she pried herself away from him and slid to the floor, putting some distance between them. She stared at the pale skin of her hands, not understanding how they weren't stained black. She heard Harry's voice, but couldn't look at him. Then she heard Dumbledore speaking and shuffling feet. Vague words reached her… "ordeal", "damage", "rest" and "alone" stuck out, the rest blurring into a buzz that didn't make sense.

Then the door clicked shut and silence reigned.

It was good that they'd left, she tried to believe. As much as she loved being with Harry, she didn't want him to look at - or touch - her. She was _dirty._ _Contaminated_.

XXXXXXXXXX

Some meaningless minutes or seconds passed that she couldn't track. When she finally gained some measure or control, she was digging under her nails again and watching the way the blood bloomed underneath.

It was a fresh, bright red, not the dirty black of the Chamber.

That was good. It was proof that she wasn't there again. She kept her eyes wide open, refusing to blink. Focusing like this kept her present. She could do this.

"Gin," Harry said softly. She hadn't noticed him. "Gin, look at me," he said again when she didn't respond. "_Please._"

She just barely managed to tear her eyes away from her hands, and it was solely due to the pleading in his voice that she succeeded at all. Even in this state, as a mere shadow of herself, she couldn't resist helping him when he sounded so distraught. He was sitting across the room with his back against the closed door. His expression was anguished.

_Had he been there the whole time? _

When her eyes made contact with his, he thawed and slowly moved until just in front of her, hands hovering as if afraid to make contact. She tried to summon some kind of emotion - anything reassuring enough to wipe the worried look from his face - but then he was moving to touch her, and she couldn't handle it.

His bright green eyes had grounded her and made her feel some semblance of who she really was, and she needed that. She feared she might forget again if she drifted too far away from it. She couldn't be away from him, she decided. Not yet.

He was the only thing real and solid in the chaos that clouded her mind now. She knew if she could just focus, that she'd be able to feel him again. After everything they'd been through, he was a part of her. She just needed to be able to find herself first.

"I - I need a shower," she said desperately. In other circumstances, she might have cursed herself for sounding so weak. Right now, all she felt was dirty.

Harry looked troubled, like he wanted to argue, but then his gaze raked over her again and he nodded. "That's fine. I'll be waiting, as soon as you're done, alright?" He was trying to be comforting, but it wasn't enough.

"Could you," she swallowed to wet her dry throat. "Could you come in with me? Not _in _in. Just… just to sit?"

The relief that bloomed across his face spared Ginny from feeling self-conscious and gave her the courage to take his extended hand when he offered to help her up. She withdrew it quickly, feeling guilty at the flash of pain that he showed when she did so, but refusing to give in to the urge to touch him right now. She would make up for it later, after she was clean.

Harry dutifully followed her to the loo, not commenting on the shaky way she walked or any of her behavior. He even refrained from helping her when she stumbled. She was immensely grateful that he was so willing to respect her boundaries.

He only once hesitated, pausing on the threshold when they reached the loo. She couldn't bring herself to say anything about it. If he didn't move from that spot, she'd still be able to see him if she looked beyond the curtain. That would be enough.

She turned on the water and stepped into the tub mechanically, not bothering to remove her clothes first. They were dirty too, after all. The water was cold at first, but she didn't recoil, letting it wash over her as it warmed until it felt like it was burning her skin.

Grateful for the heat, she slowly stripped her wet clothing until she was bare and submerged her head under the spray. She turned her face upward, allowing the clean water to cover her completely until she ran out of breath and had to withdraw. The continuous rhythm as the stream hit her skin and flowed down to the bottom of the tub in a clear puddle reassured her. The familiar scent of her shampoo as she lathered it helped even more, especially after the second and third washings.

But then the shampoo bottle ran out, and she still didn't feel clean.

She tried to remain calm, but her voice still shook. "Harry?"

"I'm here, Gin," he replied immediately. Some of the tightness in her chest loosened at the sound of his voice and she clung to the lifeline it provided. "What do you need?"

"I'm out of shampoo," she said weakly. She now felt enough of herself to be embarrassed by the request she was about to make - there was no way he hadn't heard her frantically scrubbing the suds into her hair or had missed the scent of the steam billowing over the curtain and saturating the air - but she was still detached enough to carry on. "Is there another bottle in the cabinet?"

She heard his footsteps on the tile floor as he walked deeper into the small room. Knowing he was close made her feel better.

"I'm sorry," he said. Even the disappointment at his negative response was meaningless, because he was there. If she could feel him, she could feel herself too. She clung to the thought. She wanted to be herself again. He continued unaware of her thoughts, "You can use mine, if you want."

She didn't hesitate to slip her hand out the curtain for it. His fingers brushed hers as he passed her the bottle without comment. They were cool by comparison, but the contact still sent a wave of warmth through her that even the heated water couldn't achieve.

Quickly uncapping the bottle, she poured a generous amount into her palm. His familiar scent immediately permeated the steamy air, and a wave of comfort so strong that it made her feel weak in the knees swept over her. Not bothering to fight it, she sank to the bottom of the tub. She hadn't realized how tense or tired her muscles had been until then.

With Harry's scent wafting around her and the longing she felt to hear his voice once more, she felt motivated to say something finally. "I'm sorry about all this… that I keep being so weak."

"You're not weak," he said immediately, his voice emanating from just outside the curtain. More warmth unfurled at his proximity. "You're one of the strongest, bravest people I know."

The earnest tone with which he spoke wore down her defenses and the shock began to fade. Desperation still clung to her however, as did sadness that she wasn't what he thought. She was falling to pieces over memories that she'd had for years, for Godric's sake!

He didn't need to see her to understand where her thoughts had taken her, and the small thread of him she'd been clinging to seemed to grow beneath her grasp, turning into a solid rope as she listened to his next words.

"You've always been amazing, Gin," he said, the words gentle and saturated with something akin to awe. "The first time I saw you, you were begging your mum to let you go to Hogwarts with your brothers. You were just this small thing then, but you ran the whole length of the train and laughed through the tears."

The memory played in her mind as he spoke, and she welcomed the purity of it. She really was just a little girl, saddened to be left behind while all her brothers went off to school and disappointed not to have met her childhood hero. Life had been so simple then, untouched by darkness or despair, and it gave her access to a version of herself that she had sorely missed all these years. It allowed her to crack a small smile.

"I'd forgotten about that part." She sniffled and then sighed in disgust at herself. "How in Merlin's name do you stand me with all this crying?"

"Stop it," he scolded lightly. "Given everything I've seen you go through, I'm amazed at how rarely I've seen you cry actually." He paused before adding, "I've always loved that memory though. I remember wishing you had been doing it for me."

She realized with a shock that Harry had to have been watching her specifically for him to remember it so clearly. She tried to picture it, the scrawny child he had been peeking out the window and watching her display through his broken glasses. Her heart accelerated, the feeling of warmth, comfort and love that she associated with him grew in her chest until she could feel the part of him inside her like a tangible thing. The desperation faded away.

A thought occurred to her and she spoke without thinking. "It's a good thing I wasn't," she said, an unexpected laugh escaping her, "or you and I would have a whole new set of issues to complicate this relationship."

He barked a laugh that sounded equal parts shocked and relieved.

In the beat that followed, Ginny finally realized that she was sitting in the shower naked. With Harry just on the other side of the curtain. Because she had asked him to.

Had her whole body not already been red from her extended bathing and scrubbing, her cheeks may have flushed darker in that moment than in any other of her life. Even the singing valentine hadn't been as mortifying as this situation.

Harry didn't seem to mind it. "I mean it, Gin. You're amazing. Like the summer before my second year...you were so nervous around me." He chuckled good naturedly, but she cringed. Listening to the way he spoke about her was enthralling, but she couldn't understand how that memory proved she was amazing. "You refused to even talk to me, but the second Malfoy came after me, you didn't hesitate to come to my defense, even though he was bigger and stronger than you."

"He was a ponce," she responded in spite of herself. "There's nothing scary about that. Fred and George are far more devious than he could ever dream of."

This time he laughed fully, a bright, robust sound that filled the entire room. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You're so… fierce. Unless you have a good reason, you refuse to back down."

"That's just a Weasley trait," she dismissed.

"You might be right about that," he said thoughtfully. "Like that time at the Quidditch World Cup, when Fred and George found that spider and tried to pay Ron to eat it. You got right up and accepted. Didn't look phased in the slightest."

She did remember. The twins had found a spider hanging by a web in the corner of the tent and captured the poor thing. They'd offered him five galleons to eat it. When he turned them down, they made the offer to the rest of the room and she hadn't hesitated. Of course, she hadn't actually eaten the poor thing, just artfully slipped it into her sleeve and then released it outside when she had pretended to be sick.

Her laughter came more freely this time, assisted by the awareness that even in dark times, there was happiness and joy to be found.

"I've never been afraid of spiders either, but even I didn't want to do it," Harry said, still chuckling as well.

She couldn't contain more laughter from escaping and finally told him the truth. "I didn't even eat it," she said, explaining her sleight of hand trick. "Their expressions were priceless though. I laughed for days every time I thought about it."

"I love that about you. Your sense of humor."

His genuine admiration finally gave her the courage to stand and shut off the water. She didn't have to ask him for a towel before she heard him cast _Wingardium leviosa _and a towel suddenly floated over the curtain and within reach. She wrapped it around her securely before carefully stepping out.

Harry was already waiting with a bathrobe held up between them, simultaneously blocking his view and offering to help her slide it on. He released it when she gave a quick tug - honestly, he was far too tall for her to slip into it like that - and she put it on quickly. Only after tied the sash in a tight knot did she risk turning around to gauge his expression for the first time since she'd come back to herself.

He was staring at the floor, a slight blush on his face. Unsure how to begin, she cleared her throat to get him to look up. The first thing she saw was concern, but there was hope too.

"Feeling any better?" he asked hesitantly. His hand reached out to touch her before he pulled it back and rubbed his neck instead.

The familiar gesture made her feel a bit more even keeled, and she stepped forward. Relief washed over his features as he met her halfway and wrapped his arms around her, apparently unaffected by her wet tresses soaking through his shirt.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being here, for distracting me, for reminding me of the good… for everything really." She sighed against his chest. "It feels like you're always taking care of me."

"You take care of me too, you know. All the time." The gratitude in his tone was impossible to miss, but couldn't contain her huff of disbelief. He never fell to pieces and made her put him back together, not like she did. "You do," he insisted. "You pull me back from the edge, make me see reason, keep me focused, give me something to…" he trailed off and shook his head, cheeks slightly pink. "I don't thank you enough for all that."

He kissed her forehead tenderly, but then frowned as he pulled back and tried to lead her from the loo. She resisted the gentle pressure he was applying to her back - a flash of irrational fear shooting through her at his expression. The feeling that she was still dirty was materializing and her hand went to feel the wet strands that draped over her shoulder, searching for anything that could be amiss.

He must have recognized the signs, because he gently reached out and pulled her hand down, taking both of hers in his. He held their conjoined hands between them and looked her seriously in the eye. "Hey, hey. Everything is fine. There's nothing wrong with your hair." A cheeky grin lifted his features. "I was just thinking that we need to get you some more shampoo. I'm happy to have you to go around smelling like me, but I love the smell of your hair." He pulled back and gently guided her again, this time without protest from her. "I always have, you know. Even when we were kids. Of course, I didn't realize that it was you until I had a dream…"

He took her back to their room as he told the story. She listened in awe as he dried her hair using the charm she had taught him and told story after story from their early years. Memories they shared, instances he'd noticed her when she hadn't realized it, and even his thoughts on the stories her brothers had told him about her. One by one, they took up residence in her mind and forced the shadows back until all she felt was light.

XXXXXXXXXX

Despite how much Harry had helped her earlier, Ginny still couldn't settle that night. It was different now, the shadows felt closer in the dark of night and the wounds - though healing thanks to Harry - were still raw and irritated.

Every little noise in the old house made her flinch, despite knowing that they were magically protected on numerous levels. Even the fact that Harry was beside her and that her parents were just across the hall should they need anything didn't provide enough comfort for her to rest.

Harry wasn't able to sleep either and she felt horrible that her twitchiness was keeping him awake.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly. "I can go downstairs if you want."

"No." The arm her head rested on wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him, his other hand brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. Even in the darkness of the room, she could see the concern in his features.

Relief swelled, but she tried to tamp it down. "It was a long day. You need some rest," she argued feebly.

"I need it less than you," he replied, sitting up and lighting the lamp. He set a pillow behind him against the headboard, leaned back, and patted his lap. "Lay down here."

She hesitated only briefly before moving her pillow and resting her head there. His hand immediately went to her hair as he had done earlier that day and she felt herself relax little by little. He kept his wand firmly pointed at the open doorway in his other hand.

"Go to sleep, Gin. I've got you."

She wanted to argue that it wasn't necessary - that she would buckle down and get control of herself - but with the light on and Harry taking care of her, she really did feel so much better. Admitting defeat, she thanked him before falling asleep shortly thereafter. For a while, she floated through a blank, soft place in which no thoughts plagued her, only comfort. It was peaceful, until it wasn't.

_She was in a cave she recognized despite having never physically been in before. A young boy with smooth black hair stood on the bank of the lake hidden in the natural structure, eyeing the water with cold calculation. Fear prickled up her spine and goosebumps rose on her skin as she watched a plan form behind his malicious gaze. _

_Her dread only increased as she heard the voices of two other children approaching. She knew how this ended, and she had no desire to watch it once more. Her feet were frozen in place however, her head refusing to turn away and her voice silent even as she tried to shout at the children to run. _

_The boy's cheeks lifted in a perverse smile, the depraved hunger in his eyes turning the expression into something sinister. Fully dressed, he took a purposeful step into the dark waters, and then another and another, until he was deep enough that his mouth just barely cleared the surface of the water. Once in place, his expression morphed into a believable expression of fear and called out in a desperate tone, "Help! Someone help!"_

_The slightly older boy and smaller girl came running, just as he had known they would. He flailed his arms, water splashing into his mouth that he had to spit out in order to breath enhancing the effect of his ruse. To their credit, the group of children did pause at the bank when they realized who was waiting in the water. _

"_Do you really need help, Riddle?" Dennis Bishop called out, his arm protectively placed in front of little Amy Benson. "Or is this just another one of your tricks?"_

_Ginny felt sick. The first time she had witnessed this scene, it had started at this point, with young Tom Riddle unable to swim and begging for help while the other children ignored his pleas and questioned his honesty. How foolish she had been back then, believing that Tom had been an overlooked and ridiculed victim in his youth. This was the scene that taught her single moments were meaningless without context. By the time she was shown the truth about this particular instance, it was too late and Tom had sunk his claws so far into her that there was no shaking him off. _

"_Please," he shouted in distress, coughing up water after slipping under momentarily. "I'm stuck! There's some kind of mud and I'm sinking!"_

_The children shared an uncertain look. Amy asked in a small voice, "Maybe we should go get Mrs. Cole? She should be able to help."_

_Tom let out half a panicked scream for help before slipping under the water and not resurfacing. Dennis jumped into action, reservations forgotten, and held onto Amy's hand, her feet remaining on dry land while the he waded out into the water after him. Neither would-be rescuer saw the evil smirk that crossed his face, but Ginny did._

_Having already seen the exchange before didn't make seeing it again now any easier._

_Young Tom had been practicing manipulating his magic, trying to bend it to his will, and had reached the conclusion that it only responded to his strongest emotions. Ginny knew from their previous discussions that in this instance, his hatred of the insipid children before him teamed with his perverse enjoyment of having control of them was enough to allow him to use his magic to pull them off the bank and into the muddy waters. Their own shouts of panic as they tried to escape lit his expression with a malicious glee and allowed him greater control. He used it to manipulate the soft ground beneath their feet into a trap of sorts, one that pulled them deeper and refused to release them until he was ready. Their desperate cries and sobbing only served to increase his sadistic pleasure._

_She was powerless to stop it as he forced them to hold each other under water until they were on the brink of drowning. Little Amy held Dennis down with a force her small frame shouldn't have been able to possess, but Tom's magic ran through her with a force that refused to be denied. _

_It was far too like Ginny's own experiences and she felt a deep pain as she watched the little girl's horror at her own actions until Tom finally released her. The expression of horror didn't fade in the slightest when she was finally freed, but shifted into something broken. Ginny knew that feeling too well _

_Even though he hadn't done permanent physical damage, the two children would never be the same. Tom Riddle didn't think about things like that, however. All he knew was that he couldn't go so far as to have them kill each other. He'd never be able to explain that away. As it stood, he was pushing the limit of what he could hope to say was an accident. _

_Not that he thought they'd be willing to talk after this. Even if they were foolish enough to, who would believe in magic? Or so he had told her, his voice dripping with disgust as he spoke about the 'weak muggles'. He looked down upon them with disdain as he watched them shakily climb out of the water with traumatized looks on their faces when it was all said and done._

"_Compassion is a weakness, Ginevra," a voice that made her skin crawl hissed from over her shoulder. The invisible bonds locking her in place retreated and she quickly turned to face the sixteen-year-old version of Tom Riddle standing behind her. His hand was around her throat as quick as a snake strikes. "You would do well to remember that. In the end, it won't save either of you." _

_She tried not to panic and remain limp. This had already happened before, many years ago when Tom still lived in her head. If she could just remember that, she could free herself from the memory of it now._

_Then he squeezed, each of his long, cold fingers tightening until she could feel even the metal of his ring constricting her airway. Panic gripped her. _It shouldn't feel this real, _she thought desperately. _

_Already, her body felt heavy from the lack of oxygen and her vision blurred. The tears weren't enough to obscure the view of Harry behind him, his lips blue and eyes glassy with death. _

She woke from the nightmare with a gasp, jolting upright as her hand went to her throat. Familiar surroundings came into view as she frantically looked around herself. Comforted, she took a breath to steady her racing heart.

Her exposed shoulder felt cold in the air, but the bed was soft beneath her. Turning back, she saw Harry beside her just like he was supposed to be. He had fallen asleep sitting up. One hand was open palm-up, obviously having fallen from her shoulder when she sat, and the other still clutched his wand, standing guard just as he had promised when she fell asleep.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Careful not to disturb him, she slipped quietly from the bed and out into the hall.. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted, and she had no desire to wake him over this. She couldn't ask him to keep being strong for her.

Out in the hallway, she paused. Normally, she'd slip down to the kitchen for a cup of tea after a nightmare like this. There were still a number of injured Order members on the second floor, however, and she didn't want to disturb them either. Not over something so foolish as a nightmare.

_They're just memories! _She screamed internally, desperately trying to hold back tears. _Old, old memories. Not even the worst of them. Don't let him get to you. Not now. Not after so long. _The desperate words she told herself made no difference as she slid to the floor and let the tears come.

She felt like she was eleven again, facing a wizard older and far stronger than herself and powerless to stop him.

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? She stood no chance of defeating Voldemort and she hated it with a burning passion that hurt to acknowledge. That responsibility rested on Harry's shoulders alone, no matter how much she wished she could bear that weight for him.

"Ginny?" her mother said softly, stepping out of the room that used to belong to Regulus. "Oh Ginny dear," she breathed, catching sight of the tears that had leaked out of Ginny's eyes. She sat down on the floor beside Ginny, pulling her into a comforting embrace and stroking her hair. "I know today was hard, my girl. I wish you didn't have to see that side of the war."

"It's not that," Ginny whispered with a sniffle.

Her mum paused. "Did something happen with Harry? I thought it odd that you'd be out here instead of with him."

"No," she said quickly and perhaps a bit too loudly. She lowered her voice. "No. It's not Harry. I mean, it is, but it's not his fault." She took a calming breath. "It's just so unfair to him… all that he's expected to do."

"I know, dear," her mum replied sadly. "You're both still so young…" She blew out a breath, and Ginny got the impression she was calming herself. "Sometimes that's just how it is. The war won't be kind to you because of your age. But Harry is brave and capable. He'll do everything he can."

"I know that," Ginny said, another traitorous tear falling. "That's what I'm afraid of Mum. He'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means he doesn't survive."

"Everything will be alright, Ginny," her mother replied soothingly. "You'll see. For now, all we can do is be there for him."

"I will be," she answered fiercely, the idea of her not being there for him waking up the stronger part of her that wanted nothing more than to fight. "I'd never let him face it on his own."

"I know you wouldn't," Harry's sleepy voice came from the doorway he had suddenly appeared in. "What are you doing out here?"

"I didn't want to wake you," she said, feeling guilty at his exhausted and confused appearance. "You didn't look like you'd gotten much rest."

He shook his head and held out a hand to help her up. She took it willingly enough, stepping into his open arms as soon as she had made it to her feet. Even though she hadn't wanted to disturb him before, she was exceedingly grateful that he was awake now. There was an undeniable comfort Harry gave her that even her mother couldn't rival.

"Well," her mum said from behind her. Ginny bit her lip guiltily, having forgotten she was there. Harry appeared to have forgotten as well and was obviously on the verge of apologizing when her mum continued with a warm tone, "now that I know you two are fine, I'm going to go check on things downstairs before going back to bed. Goodnight."

She and Harry both offered their own partings before Harry guided her back to bed with his arm around her waist. Once settled in their usual spots, he turned to her and pulled her flush against him in a way that made her sigh with relief.

_This is home_, she thought. He had been the one to bring her back to herself when she had been lost earlier, and it wasn't for the first time. Love for him and everything he did for her swelled in her chest as she thought about it, and she placed a kiss just over his heart in a silent expression of how much he meant to her. The overwhelming truth that everything would be alright as long as she could come back to his side each night allowed her to finally breathe easily.


	25. Chapter 22

**A/N: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I hadn't realized I'd be without internet last night. Also a warning: we are approaching the part where the story will start to earn its M rating.**

Harry maintained his vigil even after she'd fallen asleep. It wasn't enough that she'd managed to settle into unconsciousness - it was a fitful slumber at best.

Her body tensed in his embrace. His own expression turned into a grimace as he took in the lines that creased her forehead, looking unnaturally deep across her usually smooth skin. He made a soothing sound and brushed his fingers over the skin there, brushing her hair back as he went. He repeated it until the expression smoothed into the softness of her usual slumber.

He didn't stop his ministrations after the second occurrence, aware that if he did, she would fall back into the clutches of whatever haunted her dreams that night. It was a small sacrifice to make if it meant helping her fight off her demons.

It wasn't a hardship at all, really. The scent from her hair drifted up and infused his senses. It wasn't quite right then - his usual crisp scented shampoo mixing with her floral one - but it was soothing none-the-less. It never failed to remind him of those simpler times when he would fall asleep at the Burrow, clean and warm in the rays of sunshine and surrounded by the scent on his favorite chair.

He let his eyes drift shut as he remembered, now wondering what it would have been like had he known it was _her _scent. What it would have been like if she'd been less shy or him more encouraging and they'd become friends his first summer at the Burrow.

He could still picture clearly what she looked like at eleven - small, but bright-eyed with a wide smile the few times he'd managed to watch her interact with her siblings unseen - and could easily place himself in those memories now.

Things could have been so different.

He could see himself being amazed, watching the little version of her embarrassing her elder brothers in front of him, showing off the graceful way she swam in the pond, and attempting to keep up in all their competitions. In his mind, he saw her pout with frustration when she failed to throw the gnomes as far as her brothers before determination settled in and she tried again. He could see himself letting her win eventually, just to see her happy.

He smiled to himself, allowing further visions to form.

_Maybe, if he'd paid attention to her, he would have caught her flying one night. He would have been impressed, he knew. She had a natural talent that must have been undeniable even then. He could have joined her and taught her all the tricks he knew. They could have been friends, just the two of them. _

_She could have shown him the garden that she tended herself or her favorite hiding spots in the Orchard. The small tree she used to climb that her brothers were too heavy to follow her up in. He was small back then too. They could have sat hidden in the leaves together. _

_There was so much he could have learned about her back then, the twelve-year-old self in his mind thought as she ran down the path toward the trees ahead of him, bright sunlight reflecting a kaleidoscope of red and gold of her bouncing hair._

_Had they been friends, she would have been included, would have had her brother to support her, and wouldn't have felt alone. She wouldn't have turned to that horrible diary in her isolation. She wouldn't carry the scars she did now. She wouldn't be…_

_Who she was._

_The eleven-year-old version of Ginny morphed into her present-day self before disappearing into thick trees of the suddenly dark wood. The temperature dropped in sync with the light and a chill ran through him. Ginny was _gone_. The scent and the constant warmth within him that represented her was just _gone.

_Panic began to swell. There was something sinister lurking here. He could _feel _it. She was in danger. He needed to find her, immediately, before something else did. He started running, searching frantically until he started at the sound of her voice._

"No!"

Harry startled awake with wand in hand, Ginny's refusal ringing in his ears. There was no threat he could see, though. There was no one. Ginny wasn't there. She was gone, just like in the dream.

She was -

Mrs. Weasley's soft voice floated through the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny was talking to her mother, just in the hallway. She was there, perfectly safe. He stilled, allowing his heart rate to settle as he focused on thinking about her.

They were talking about him, he realized. He listened closer and his chest constricted at the worry and sadness in her tone. She was right - if it came down to it, he'd give his own life to ensure they could live theirs safely. They were all he'd ever known of what family should be, of what it felt like to be loved, and he couldn't stomach the idea of them not continuing to do so. They _needed_ to live and carry on, even if he didn't. Ginny deserved a full and happy life, even if he couldn't be part of it.

He tried not to think about the story of Sirius's ancestor whose betrothed had died and how she'd never recovered...

The ice that had begun to spread through him cracked at the fire in Ginny's voice. _"I'd never let him face it on his own."_

He decided it was time to make his presence known and stepped into the doorway where she would be able to see him. "I know you wouldn't," he said, voice still thick with sleep. A wet trail down her cheek glistened in the dim light. It hurt to see, even more so because he thought he may have been able to prevent it had she woken him instead. "What are you doing out here?"

"I didn't want to wake you," she said guiltily. Her lips turned down in concern as she looked at him. "You didn't look like you'd gotten much rest."

He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. His sleep was of little importance when she was so clearly suffering. He offered her a hand up. Warmth chased away his lingering nerves when she took it and fell easily into his embrace. He hadn't realized he'd been worried that she was running from him until he felt the relief that she hadn't.

He felt bad when Mrs. Weasley began speaking. He'd forgotten she was there entirely. She didn't give him a chance to apologize, however, and dismissed them with an understanding smile.

Harry led them back to bed, where Ginny settled against him, perfectly aligned. The stress of the previous day must have been getting to him, because the thought that she fit him like a puzzle piece flitted across his mind. He wasn't usually so absurdly sentimental and he felt the urge to shake off the emotions. The feeling couldn't be denied, however, when she kissed over top his heart and breathed against his chest as if he himself created the air she needed to breathe fully.

After several minutes it became clear that she was relaxed, but not asleep, and he broke the silence to apologize. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

He felt the slight shake of her head against his chest. He couldn't see the eye roll, but he imagined it being there none-the-less. "Don't be ridiculous. You needed the sleep obviously."

"Still, I wish I'd been awake when you woke up. I could have told you it wasn't real." A shiver shook her frame and her grip around him tightened. He held her more firmly in response. He didn't want her to feel alone anymore.

"It was though," she said meekly. "Real, I mean. It did happen. I was in one of his memories."

He hesitated. He didn't know how to comfort her without knowing what she'd seen, but didn't want to make it worse. "We can talk about it, if it will help. Or we can sit here just like this, and I'll stay awake this time. Whatever you think will help."

Her exhale penetrated his shirt as she pressed her face into his chest and began telling him about her nightmare. His revulsion grew with each detail she revealed. He'd always known Voldemort was sick, but he'd never imagined that the twisted fascination with power and pain had manifested so early. Ginny's nails had begun to dig into the skin at his side, but he ignored it in the interest of providing her with whatever comfort he could. He was having trouble hearing without having had to witness it too.

"...the worst part about it is that when I _think_ about it, it feels like my own memory. I see it the way he saw it, feel what he felt…" she said painfully as she shook in his grip.

"It's not, though," he said reassuringly. "He might have lived through you for a time, but he isn't you and you're not him." He rubbed her arm. "Just think about how it makes you feel to think about now. He'd never feel the upset or guilt that you feel now, even though you didn't do anything wrong and he did."

She took a deep breath, and seemed to weigh her words before she began speaking again. "When I started remembering… Merlin, my whole first year feels like a blur between me and him. He was _me_. But I wasn't him… it's hard to explain. You're right though. Because I wanted to vomit when I remembered killing Hagrid's roosters, but he was disappointed he had to kill them quickly, that he didn't have time to enjoy it."

Disgust surged, but he pushed it back. He wouldn't allow his own reactions to dominate the conversation. He wanted her to keep talking about it. Dumbledore had told him that Ginny likely repressed these memories. She needed to get it out if she was going to heal and move forward.

"I bet you pissed him off a lot that year, fighting back like you did." It was meant to be light and encouraging, but even he could hear the pride that leaked into his tone. He was sure he'd never get over how strong she was. The feeling spread to pride for himself as well when he felt her cheek lift into a small smile.

"Merlin, he _hated _me by the end," she breathed in disbelief. The small laugh that accompanied it was at odds with the words. "Damn near as much as he hated you. I don't think he expected a little girl to be so difficult. Especially because of how our relationship began… me feeling so alone and leaning on a memory in a diary as my only confidant." The humor he was so proud to have achieved faded out into sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry -" an elbow to his side had him cutting off. He huffed a breath. "I mean it… I was just thinking before I fell asleep that if any of us had handled things just a little bit differently, then maybe everything could have been different. You may not have turned to the diary… your whole first year could have been everything you always wanted it to be. Maybe we could have become friends for real years ago." He tried for some levity again and teased, "I feel like I've been cheated, you know. You're pretty fantastic, and I've missed out on years of knowing that."

She laughed freely, like he intended, and he felt the feeling of warmth spread over him like sunshine. "Oh, I'm sure. You must be completely heartbroken."

"Don't mock. I am," he said, but he knew she heard the smile in his voice.

Her laughter trailed away. "You know, as much as I would have appreciated more of your company…" she trailed off before contemplatively asking, "Is it strange if I say I wouldn't want the diary to not have happened?" She tensed a little and her next words were a rushed explanation. "I know it sounds terrible and I don't _like_ what happened. I wouldn't wish the damage I nearly did on anyone, but we all survived and... I wouldn't be the me I am now if it hadn't happened. It's been difficult - impossible sometimes - to work through, but… I like who I am. As twisted as it is, fighting Tom Riddle is part of that. You know?"

She sounded so nervous that he stopped to think before responding. He wanted to be honest with her. She'd never believe vague reassurances.

He had already come to the conclusion that she wouldn't be who she was without those experiences, but he still wished she hadn't gone through all of it. Seeing how the memories had affected her earlier that night made it difficult to remember that.

He tried instead to think about how he felt about it. If he would rather not know the things he did.

There were things he knew that you could only learn firsthand. Darkness that was too deep to understand unless you'd been in its presence yourself. It was why Ginny could relate to him on a level that even Ron and Hermione couldn't.

His first instinct was to say that of course he would give it all up. Be normal. Not be haunted by terrible memories.

But that wasn't his reality. In this world where he was the center of a prophecy against Voldemort, he needed the lessons he had learned in each of their meetings. The knowledge of what Voldemort was truly like was invaluable.

It was a part of him. Just like it was part of her.

"I understand," he said, letting the weight and truth of the statement come through. He still loathed all that she had been through, though. Things were different for her. There had been no need for her to end up in the middle of the mess that was his life. He couldn't help asking, "You don't think you would've ended up learning those things anyway?"

"Maybe… but not in the same way or in the same time." She paused to think and he felt the shift in her posture when she found the words to explain. "Take Ron and Percy for instance. Ron holds all this resentment toward him for his ambition, but I've seen what true malicious ambition is like. It makes it easier for me to forgive him, because I'm certain Percy isn't like Tom was and would never do the things he's done."

He hesitated and had to clear his throat before he could ask his next question. He forced his voice to remain even as he spoke. "It's not just the memories from when he was controlling you or what he showed you, is it?"

"No," she said reluctantly.

He didn't want to ask, but he knew these were the memories that she needed to talk about most. He forced out the question, "How much do you know?"

"More than I thought," she replied heavily. "It's… in the end, he couldn't hide things from me, but I've never looked at the memories all at once before. I still don't want to, not really. But there's something there."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have his memories, just impressions. I just _know_ things associated with the memories from when he was possessing me. Like with the ring Dumbledore had… Tom always wore it. He looked at it when we were in the Chamber. He was proud of it." Disgust leaked into her tone. "It had been his maternal uncle's, proof that they were descended from Salazar Slytherin. Tom kept it as a souvenir after he killed him. He kept a lot of souvenirs. The paw of a rabbit he strangled, a stone from the cave with those children..."

"The diary for the Chamber?"

She nodded. "That one was for Myrtle, obviously. He had the strangest fascination with her death. He'd already killed his uncle, but the man was related to his mother, so Tom discounted him as weak, the same way he did her. But Myrtle was like him, in a sense. Raised by muggles and being taught proper magic. She shouldn't have been so easy to kill, by his estimation. It's what started his obsession with death, or, rather, how to avoid it." She must have sensed the anticipation in him, because she quickly added, "I don't know what or how he did it, but I know he was looking into dark, hidden things. Something foreign maybe? Or to do with runes? I can't tell exactly, but definitely not the kind of thing we'd find in _Hogwarts: A History_, you know?"

He knew better than to have expected her to have the answer - if she had, she would've said something immediately - but disappointment washed over him. Not in her, of course, but just in general. Knowing what steps he'd taken would have given them a huge advantage.

"Hopefully Dumbledore can figure it out," he said. "I figure that's what the point of collecting all these memories is." _If there's anything to find…_

Ginny seemed to share his doubt. "Do you think he can? I mean… what if Tom created his own method? Some spell or ritual that was never documented…" she trailed off uncertainly.

He heard Voldemort's words to his Death Eater's once more. He claimed to have _"gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality"_. There was no denying that he was talented and powerful enough to have created his own method.

Ginny had begun to shift nervously against him, pulling him out of his revery. He refocused on comforting her and rubbed her back.

With a confidence he didn't truly feel, he said, "We just have to hope he didn't. I don't think he'd risk anything that hadn't been done successfully before, even if he did something to change it. Dumbledore will figure out what that is, and we'll figure it out from there, one way or another."

"Yeah," she replied. He couldn't ignore the mournful undertone.

"We _will_," he promised. "I'm not going to let him win."

She didn't say anything to contradict him, but the silence between them was enough to convey her doubt.

"Gin…"

"I know you won't," she said tersely, " but you can't promise that it will all be alright. No one can guarantee that."

The conversation he overheard clawed at his conscience. He knew what she meant and it wasn't something he could promise. "You're right," he admitted, but he offered what he little he could. "But even if… even if the worst happens, I promise I won't ever want to leave you. I'll do everything I can to stay with you."

"Don't promise me anything you can't stick to I know that you'd never _want_ to leave us, but it's just your nature -"

He quickly cut in, wanting to be clear. "Not you as in 'all of you'. I mean _you, _Gin. I don't plan on doing anything unless it's to protect _you_. I'm not going to give up this, not unless I have to."

For the first time since they'd returned to bed, she pulled away from him, and sat up, bracing herself on one arm. Her other hand rested limply on his chest as she stared at him with wide eyes. When he realized how close he'd come to saying something far too heavy for their newfound relationship, he tried to redirect, latching on to the first thing he thought of, "I mean, can you imagine what Sirius would say? He'd kill me all over again as soon as I crossed over."

His heart pounded beneath her touch and his now empty hand went to his hair, mussing it nervously, as he waited for her to say something. She stared at him for a beat longer before exhaling heavily and blinking.

Her voice was shaky, but she offered him a strange smile. "I wouldn't need Sirius. I'd find a way to haunt you."

"Pretty sure the living can't haunt the dead, Gin."

She laughed, still a bit off, but more like herself than before and laid back down against him. "I'd find a way," she assured him, maintaining eye contact. "Sirius would help."

"He would," he said, chuckling in relief. He felt much better with her back in her proper place against him. He resisted the urge to add that she wouldn't need to - he'd find a way to be near her no matter the cost. She'd caught and carried his clumsy attempt at levity, however, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

Instead of giving in and letting escape the emotional words that were at the tip of his tongue, he shifted down to kiss her softly. There was so much he wanted to put into it, but he held back. _They would have time for that, _he assured himself.

She returned the tenderness, but it was sweeter coming from her. She was a constant bundle of contradictions that combined perfectly to make her the best person he knew.

"How are you so perfectly balanced?" She scoffed, but he carried on. "Honestly, you're delicate and strong, compassionate but unyielding, funny but serious," he lightened his tone, "temperamental and thoughtful... how the hell do you manage that?"

"You're ridiculous," she said, but there was no admonishment in her tone. If anything she sounded bashful. "I'm really not that great."

"I think so. Sirius did too, obviously."

"You know, when we first went back to school, I wrote him three letters in the first two weeks. When I didn't get one back, I started to think that maybe he'd just felt bad for me when we were all here. Or he only talked to me at night because no one else was around. I knew how often he had written you the year before - Hermione told me when I asked - so I stopped writing."

"Clearly that didn't last long. I saw how many letters you sent him."

"No, it didn't." He could hear the smile as she spoke. "He wrote me after a week, indignant that my parents were still getting letters and he wasn't. So I went back to writing him too, even though he only wrote back about once a month, if that." Both fondness and exasperation penetrated the words, as well as sadness. "I knew he cared though, even if he didn't say it much. I don't think he told you enough, either. His world revolved around you, you know."

He knew it, now at least, but he hadn't been fully aware of it when his godfather was alive. Most of their time together had been dark and stressful, but Sirius had always been there for him when it counted. He'd always tried, despite his shortcomings and limitations.

"I wish we'd had more time together."

"Me too. I can't believe I only knew him, _really _knew him, for less than a year," she sighed.

"How weird was it meeting 'Sirius Black: wanted murderer'?" he asked. It was one story he'd never heard before, nor had he seen it in Sirius's journal. That time period had been dedicated to Order business and his frustration at not being able to talk to Harry.

"It was _fantastic_!" He was caught off guard by how enthusiastic she sounded. "I felt so damn smart. The twins were completely stunned, jaws hanging open, but I jumped up and yelled how _I knew it!_" She started laughing. "And the boys all started to say that I didn't, until Sirius stepped in and said I called it years ago. I was so proud that I didn't think to be worried about how amused he looked. That ended real quick when he shifted into Padfoot and back. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

He couldn't hold back his own laughter as he pictured it, the smug, humorous look Sirius no doubt wore when he transformed clear in his mind, as well as her shocked reaction. "What did you do to him for that?"

"Once my heart restarted? I cornered him at the first opportunity and threatened to neuter him if he ever told anyone about my second year," she said plainly, as if it was no big deal.

"Merlin, Gin," he said through laughter, "how many times did you threaten his anatomy?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently. It was impressively done - if he didn't know better, he may have believed it.

"I mean, the day before we went back to school last year, Sirius came down the stairs laughing his arse off. He'd been so moody the days before, I couldn't figure out what had happened. He said, 'Ginny just threatened to cut off my balls for waking her up,' before you came down the stairs looking pissed and mimed a cutting motion at him."

"Well, what he didn't tell you is that he woke me up by jumping on my bed as Padfoot and licking my face. It was disgusting!" she exclaimed. "I told him that if he wanted to act like my pet, I'd treat him like one."

"I didn't say you were in the wrong."

"No, but you men are rather fond of your balls," she said flippantly. "I just assumed you'd take his side."

"They're an important part of my anatomy, you know." He couldn't help chuckling again. He was rather surprised by how much laughter there had been, given the day they'd had. He loved that about her. "You know, when we first met, I never imagined we'd be sitting in bed one day talking like this."

"You mean eleven-year-old you didn't imagine having late-night conversations in bed with the blubbering ten-year-old girl? _Shocking_."

"Stop it. You know what I mean," he said, emphasizing it by tickling her side. She squirmed pleasantly against him. "And I didn't notice the blubbering so much as I did the hair."

"It was a _mess_. Poor Mum tried her best, but I couldn't be contained long enough to let her do it properly," she said nostalgically.

"It was pretty, even back then," he insisted.

"If you say so, you nutter," she joked. "I know what you mean though, I noticed your eyes, even through the broken glasses. I'd never seen anyone with eyes that green - still haven't, actually. I talked about it so much that Mum made my Christmas jumper that exact shade of green that year."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Eyes as green as fresh pickled toad?"

She groaned. "Oh Merlin, you just had to bring it up, didn't you?" She swatted his chest. "I was _eleven_. Let's see you try writing poetry. Right now, in fact. Go on. Wow me with your literary ability."

"Hey, I never claimed I could do better!" he defended.

"Then, hush you," she scolded playfully.

Amusement hung in the air between them and Harry soaked it in gratefully, glad the days of misunderstandings and embarrassment had passed. The freedom to just be who he was, and know she was as well, was incredibly liberating. A pleasant silence settled.

Eventually she yawned, and he was forced to face the reality that it had gotten quite late. They both needed to sleep.

"We should get to bed," he said regretfully.

He felt her tense before she pulled away to look him in the eye. She tried to sound petulant, but he heard the concern beneath as she asked, "Do we have to?"

"Unfortunately we do. Lay back. Do the Occlumency exercises. I'll be here," he said encouragingly.

Despite the grim exhaustion that marred her face, her lips still quirked up into a small smile. "I know you will."

His fingers found her hair unconsciously and he rubbed the scalp there. She let out that little sound that he loved so much - the one that reminded him of a cat - and he felt himself relax too. As much as his intent had been to comfort her, he couldn't deny that it centered him as well and made going through his own Occlumency exercises much smoother.

He had no doubt he would need them tonight. He'd definitely have nightmares without it.

It had been terrifying to see her lose control when Dumbledore asked her to focus on the memories. It was even worse to see that Dumbledore himself was concerned. He'd felt so helpless, just sitting there and watching her instead of _doing_ something to help. And then she recoiled from him.

He shied away from the thought. _She's here now. Right here_, he reminded himself firmly. Her warmth bled into his, her scent and his mingled in the air he breathed, and the taste her kiss lingered… he let the sensations ground him and focused on how he could feel her, not just physically, but deeper.

She was _his_.

Not in a way that he thought he owned her. It was more that she was intrinsically a part of him. When he focused like he was at the moment, he could feel all the ties that bound them and the swirl of magic shared between them. Part of him was overwhelmed by the pure communion between them, but the greater part was enthralled and consumed by how wonderful it felt. She'd always been there, but embracing it gave the connection new life.

He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than to hold onto it with both hands.

When her breathing evened out into that of a peaceful slumber, he finally allowed himself to drift off once more. Once he got past the worst parts of the evening, his Occlumency attempts became half-hearted at best and he quickly sank into unconsciousness surrounded by a vortex of happy thoughts with Ginny at the center. When he fell into a new dream, he recognized it for what it was immediately.

_He was back in the orchard at the Burrow, following a Ginny who looked like she did now. She turned and smiled at him, taking his hand as they walked in the direction of the pond. He noticed the light had returned to the area, even brighter than it had been in his first dream. _

_He took a moment to appreciate how right everything felt. The sights, sounds, and scent hanging in the air were perfectly balanced, the pace Ginny set just enough to reflect the eagerness he felt without rushing it. _

_His eyes fell on Ginny herself next. She was beautiful, as always, but better yet, she was happy, unlike she'd been when they were awake. He could tell by the relaxed set of her shoulders and the way she bounced slightly on her toes. He couldn't look away, nor did he try, following blindly where she led and trusting her to get them there safely._

_For all that he'd been watching her, he still found himself surprised when they arrived at the bank of the pond and she went to disrobe. He hadn't noticed til now that she was only wearing the worn shirt she always wore to bed. He could see through it enough to know that she wore green knickers and no bra. _

_His mouth went dry as she lifted it and he saw they weren't just green, but the exact shade of his eyes. Then the pale expanse of her back was exposed, the shirt briefly pulling her hair aside to expose the freckles of her shoulders before it fell back into place in long waves of red. He watched in fascination as she shook her head and fanned it out with her fingers before turning around. The long tresses hid the details of her breasts, but he was painfully aware that she'd be exposed if he just reached out and pushed aside like he frequently did in their waking hours._

_Part of him insisted that it was wrong to look, even in a dream. Especially after everything they'd just been through. He couldn't force himself to stop looking, but he did resist the urge to reach out, keeping his hands firmly to his sides._

_The Ginny of his dreams had no such compunctions and reached out for his hair. Hers shifted, giving him the briefest glimpse of a rosy nipple before he was distracted by the words she whispered._

_"I love you."_

_It was on the tip of his tongue to say it back. Here in the realm of his dreams, it seemed so obvious and easy to do, but then the world tilted and the image dissolved._

He found himself awake once more, Gin's blurred image above him. No part of him could regret the change in surroundings, however, glad to be with the real her again.

He definitely didn't regret it a few minutes later when it felt like he had returned to his dreams once more.


	26. Chapter 23

**A/N: The first section of this ends with M content. If that's not your thing, you can skip it. I have it on good authority that the chapter reads just fine without it. **

**In other news, I started a new job, which means updates may be a bit sporadic. The next chapter is started, but not yet complete. The story has been fully outlined, however.**

**Thanks for reading!**

Ginny woke the next morning later than usual. She noted with relief that it was half-past nine in the morning - late enough that her mother was already downstairs, but early enough that no one else in residence should bother her. She still felt exhausted, but much better emotionally than she had been the previous night, for which she was grateful.

She should have expected the nightmare. It was what she deserved for refusing to perform proper Occlumency before bed. She simply hadn't wanted to truly examine the memories and sort them, instead attempting to shove them back into their previous prison. Upon reflection, she should have known that once the door had been breached, it was never going to hold them back again.

The nightmare had forced her to acknowledge it, however, so at near half past three in the morning, she relied on Harry to ground her while she shifted through the memories one by one and actually evaluated them. It had been difficult, but her sleep had been much better for it.

She had learned a lot of things the previous night - some that would require further inspection - but the biggest thing she had learned was just how far Harry was willing to go for her. Her chest swelled with emotion thinking about it, and she turned in his grip to look at his sleeping face.

He looked so much younger and more carefree when he slept. The usual tense lines she was so accustomed to seeing around his eyes relaxed and softened him. Of course, she'd seen him looking relaxed and carefree awake too, particularly when it was just the two of them, but he hadn't once relaxed the night before. The worry he held for her had been so apparent in every move he made.

He had done far more than she would have ever dreamed of asking for, and he had done it without a word of complaint. It made her feel… loved. Cherished even. In a way that she'd only ever seen between older, more established couples.

It should have scared her, how easily they had fallen together once they took that step, but it had been almost effortless. While the beginning of the summer had made her feel like she was climbing a cliffside by hand, being with Harry felt like she had finally reached the ledge and walking on solid ground again.

She knew now that allowing her feelings had been the right call. He was a part of her now. More than once he had been the only thing real in the world, the only thing that kept her from being lost to magic that wasn't her own. Imagining not having done so - some alternative reality in which their kiss hadn't happened - hurt to think about even.

Part of it was the magic of their betrothal, but she had seen that it went deeper than that, both magically and emotionally. She had loved some version of him nearly all her life. Even as they'd gotten older and she'd seen his faults with glaring clarity, she'd only grown to love him more. Where it once had been a liability, something that could tear her apart, now it felt like loving him was what had molded her together.

Despite being barely separated from him by a thin sheet, she felt the need to touch him. Her fingers brushed his unruly hair to the side. She never tired of touching it, the texture both softer and stronger than she would have guessed. Sort of like him himself.

Her heart swelled with it the longer she thought about him. She leaned in to brush a kiss against his forehead. "I love you," she whispered in spite of herself as she pulled back, unable to contain the growing feeling.

Harry twitched as his hair rippled beneath the breeze of her words. She tried to pull back gently, but shifting back into position jostled to bed and Harry stirred, his eyes blinking open and catching sight of her.

"Morning," he said tiredly, the sleepless night clear by his struggle to open his eyes fully. She reached over him to grab his glasses off the end table and placed them on his face. "Thanks," he said through a yawn. Glasses in place, his gaze became sharper. "How are you this morning?" he asked genuinely, his fingers almost immediately finding their way into her tangled locks.

"I'm alright," she answered honestly. It took effort, but she resisted the urge to close her eyes at the feeling he was brewing in her. "Thank you, for taking care of me." She truly was grateful - more than she could put into words - but she couldn't resist adding dryly, "Again."

"You don't have to thank me. Didn't we go through this yesterday morning?" he said with humor, pulling her hair forward over her shoulder again, completing the recreation. The crooked smile he wore whenever teasing her made her heart race.

"Still, I - Oh," she breathed, eyes slipping closed at the unexpected feeling of Harry's hand grazing her breast through her thin shirt. Her back automatically arched forward in an attempt to prolong the contact, but his hand pulled back as unexpectedly as it had come. Pleasure jolted through her, traveling directly from her hardened nipple to between her thighs, lingering and leaving an anticipatory thrumming behind that was both pleasant and maddening.

The loss of contact and the need now coursing through her forced her to open her eyes once more. Harry lay there watching her with darkened eyes, his hand still hovering just out of range as if just barely holding back from letting it fall forward again. Neither one of them blinked as he apologized.

"Sorry," he said, the single word sounding more like croak forced out through a dry mouth than an actual apology.

Nothing about him appeared even remotely sorry, in fact, but Ginny couldn't bring herself to regret it either. When his eyes slipped down down to her chest, she couldn't hold back and slipped her body closer to his until she felt his erection throbbing against her hip in time with her own pulsing desire. "Do it again," she entreated.

His hand pressed forward and caressed her breast without hesitation. She might have been embarrassed by the moan that slipped through her parted lips if not for the matching one Harry released as he pushed himself harder against her. Her own desire flared as she felt it pulsing in a rhythm that matched her rapid heartbeat.

Beyond desire, it was also stirring an idea. Curiosity was now building as rapidly as her excitement had been and she forced herself to stop his movements and pull back. She wanted to know what he felt like.

Harry let out a disappointed sound when she stilled his hand before becoming aware of what he'd just done. "Oh shit," he breathed, pulling back and looking at her with horrified eyes, "Gin, I didn't mean - "

She was too wound up to even deal with the apology and leaned in to silence him with a heated kiss. The fire burned, clouding her thoughts and making it difficult to form the question she wanted to ask. She settled for trailing her hand down his torso until she reached the hem of his sleeping pants. "Are there limits?" she asked on a breath. Her voice didn't sound like her own, the tone far more sultry than anything she'd uttered before.

Harry looked dazed. "What?"

She slipped her forefinger under the band and tugged just enough to emphasize her intent. His gaze intensified at the movement. Words were more difficult now, the bravado spurred on by her desire fading into nervousness as she tried to vocalize her intentions. "Limits?"

He swallowed thickly, eyes never wavering from hers, but shook his head. His breathing paused as she slipped her hand inside.

There was bare skin immediately underneath. _How had she not known Harry slept without under things? _The inane thought was quickly replaced as her fingers brushed over his bare shaft for the first time. A tremor ran through Harry's entire frame, but his erection twitched independently of the movement, extending toward her.

There was no give as she cupped it fully, not that she had expected there to be after how clearly solid it felt nestled up against her all these mornings, but the heated flesh that encased the hardness was shockingly soft and smooth from base to tip. against her palm and the pads of her fingers.

She trailed her fingers up experimentally, just feeling the way the soft skin moved beneath her touch. The pulsing was more obvious now and she hoped it was because of the attention she was giving him. Her heart was racing even faster than before at the very least. She was fairly confident it was, because Harry's breathing had suddenly picked up.

Wonder had her absorbed momentarily as she looked down at the bulge of her hand through his sleep pants, but then she looked up to his face. His eyes were closed tightly, and now that she had seen the tight look there, she realized he was unnaturally still.

She knew enough to know her light explorations were not what boys did. The crude hand gestures and jokes she'd witnessed countless times were more than enough proof of that, but Harry looked downright uncomfortable. Nerves replaced her eagerness.

"Is this okay?" she asked, stilling her movements. Her face burned, but she needed to know. "You look a little… uncomfortable?"

His eyes popped open. "No!" he nearly barked. She immediately began to withdraw, but he caught her wrist. Just as quickly, he released it as if he hadn't meant to do it. He rushed to explain, "I'm - yes it's okay. No it's not… Merlin, Gin. It's bloody fantastic. I just -". He cut himself off, his own cheeks glowing with color.

His nerves settled hers. She always felt better when she remembered that he was just as out of depth as she was with all this. It helped that he clearly wanted her to continue. His wanting, emphasized by the throb his erection gave her touch in greeting, fanned her own enthusiasm once more and increased her confidence.

This time she wrapped her hand fully around him, no longer seeking to pet, but to grasp. Harry moaned and twisted a hand into her hair. He didn't pull, but she felt the pressure there, a sense of urgency rising from the sensation. She tightened her grip on his shaft and began moving up and down slowly at first. He dropped his head to her neck, his lips brushing the skin of her pulse point as he breathed out the words, "Feels so good."

A thrill ran through her at his clear enthusiasm for what she was doing. It was something of a surprise, given she'd never done anything like this before, but even more surprising was how much she liked pleasing him.

She tried to increase the pace, but the angle was all wrong. Her arm was basically extended straight down between them, her torso preventing her from bending at the elbow to get the proper leverage. It was frustrating - she wanted to see him finish.

When she paused to try to adjust, Harry immediately let go of her hair and pulled back.

She preempted the apology she knew was coming. "Lay back."

He complied immediately, rolling over so he was flat. She kept her grip as she shifted with him, pressing into his side fully. From this angle, she would be able to see his face as she adjusted the pace and tried to work out what he liked.

Her movements resumed with more fluidity than before. His arm tightened around her back. She cast a glance to his face and was caught by the way pure pleasure had morphed his expression into something awe inspiring.

Her body responded, desire making her own sensitive areas ache with wanting. She wanted him to touch her again. His partially raised hand fueled the hope that maybe he did too.

She couldn't bring herself to ask, but leaned forward and kissed him hard. The movement brought her closer, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest now. His free hand threaded through her hair as he held her head and returned the pressure in equal measure, immediately allowing her tongue access to his. She had barely begun snogging him when she felt his penis swell and then spasm beneath her hand. He groaned into her mouth as his orgasm hit, slick fluid erupting and coating her hand and his pants alike.

It was a mess.

Ginny didn't care, honestly.

The expression of utter satisfaction and peace that he wore when she pulled back made her feel content to let the moment linger. She had made him look that way. It felt powerful.

His peaceful fog lasted until she released her grip on him. He came back to himself looking startled and hastily reached for his wand before casting a cleaning charm on her hand. "Sorry," he muttered, looking sheepish. His tone filled with wonder as he explained, "That was just…"

She wanted to tease him in the way he had done to her after their first kiss, but she was too relieved. Instead she asked, "Yeah?"

"_Yes_," he said emphatically. She beamed. Uncertainty marred his features, "Can I…" he swallowed, "Did you want… I can…"

"Oh, um, no?" she answered unsurely. "I mean, not yet?" As excited as her body felt, she still wasn't sure she was ready to let him touch her that way. It made her feel a bit guilty. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to do something that I wouldn't do myself."

"Do _not_ apologize for that." He turned to his side to face her completely and rested his head against hers. "You asked. I agreed. That doesn't mean _you _have to do it too. It's always your choice, Gin."

She pressed her lips to his chastely, simply in gratitude. He stopped her when she tried to shift closer into his embrace the way she normally would, however.

"Might not want to do that just yet," he cautioned. It was then that she realized he had cleaned her up, but not himself.

"Do you want to go wash up first this morning?" she asked. She hadn't been thinking about the _after_ when she'd instigated their activities and wasn't exactly sure how this was supposed to go. The newfound intimacy would take some getting used to.

"The charms work fine for a bit," he said awkwardly, cheeks pink. "If you wanted to go first."

"No. You go ahead," she insisted. "Between the two of us, I'd say you need it more," she added teasingly, avoiding the real reason she wanted to stay in bed. What she intended to do once he left would likely be easier lying down, here, where the memory was freshest and his scent still lingered.

Her light ribbing seemed to put him at ease. He cracked a smile and said dryly, "I'd say so. I'm going to need the cloak if I'm going to make it down to the loo without embarrassing myself."

"Best be off then."

He chuckled but slid from bed, shifting his pants in what looked like a rather uncomfortable way, before grabbing the cloak. She gave a start when just his head reappeared directly in front of hers and kissed her softly. He withdrew and disappeared under the cloak, hiding his face from view as his words ghosted over. "That was brilliant. Thank you."

He was gone before she could respond, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. She released a breath and closed her eyes again, reliving the softness of his parting. It was no less arousing than their earlier exchange had been.

She slid her hand into her panties as she relived it.

Her fingers found her slick folds with practiced ease, but this time was different. This wasn't the first time she'd touched herself intimately, but it was the first time she may actually succeed in finding her climax. She'd never been this aroused before.

Allowing Harry to touch her was something she wasn't quite ready for, but fantasizing about it was marvelous. As she swirled her fingers just so, it occurred to her that had she allowed herself to think about him the other times she'd tried this, perhaps she would have climaxed then too. It felt new. It felt bloody fantastic.

The fantasy came to her easily. Harry's scent swirled around her head from his pillow, his warmth still lingered in the sheets, and his sounds of pleasure still echoed in her ears - it was all too easy to imagine what it would be like if he were the one slipping a finger into her at that moment. She had to bite her lip to contain the groan that almost slipped out as she added a second. _Why hadn't she cast any privacy charms before starting?_ It was far too late now - she was too close and too afraid of losing her rapidly building orgasm.

Eyes firmly shut and head tilted back, she cupped her breast with her free hand. The pressure of her hand as she massaged herself relieved the ache only slightly, but intensified the pleasure she felt as she worked herself with increasing efficiency - the palm of her hand rubbing her clit with each pump of her fingers. The image of Harry's eyes darkened with lust as they fixed on her when he explored her chest flashed in her mind.

And then she came.

Her peak hit her with breathtaking force. Her voice caught in her throat, the gibberish and moans she wanted to release unable to escape coherently as her walls fluttered tightly around her still moving hand as wave over wave of indescribable pleasure radiated through her body - a storm of sensation with the focus at her center. When it finally abated, she gasped for air, taking in deep breaths as she stilled under a fog of satisfaction. Her limbs felt heavy, her desire sated. It was glorious.

It was several long moments that she basked in the bliss of it before she forced herself to rise and face the day.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Like all good things, the blissful feeling came to an end. Much sooner than she would have liked. Even Harry, lovely as he was, couldn't keep the darkness at bay indefinitely.

As she stepped down to the second floor landing and heard the unfamiliar voices floating out the open doors, she remembered that the previous day had been terrible for more people than just her. The darkness threatened to rush to the front of her mind once more, but a groan of pain caught her attention instead. A desire to help - to do something good to combat the terrible that still poisoned her thoughts - drew her inside.

Her mum was already there, attempting to change the bandages on a particularly nasty leg wound. The sliced skin still gaped, showing cleanly to the bone. Despite herself, Ginny knew what that meant - it was the result of dark magic. As she approached the bed, she saw the edges looked blackened, and she cringed as she realized that they had probably needed to burn it before transporting him in order to stem the bleeding.

"Oh, thank goodness," her mum said, noticing her. "Can you hold the leg steady? I need to clean it, but the curse keeps wearing down my spells. I can't lock it into place."

"Of course," she replied quickly, eager to do something - _anything _\- to help this poor wizard get better after the trauma he'd clearly been through. He was rather young and altogether rather unremarkable - she thought recognized him as a Ravenclaw from Percy's year, but couldn't recall his name. The least she could do was help him.

When she took hold of his foot, his groaned in pain again. She thought he was unconscious until that point and quickly released him at the sound and looked at her mum.

Her mother's mouth was twisted into a grimace. "He's unconscious, but he can still feel the leg. The numbing charms aren't holding either. You're going to have to hold him through it."

Ginny blanched. She knew how important keeping a wound clean was, but it sounded like torture.

Her mother caught the expression. Her own softened as she explained, "This should be the last time we need to do this. Once I remove the damage and clean the wound itself, I'll apply a potion Severus sent this morning."

"I didn't think anything could heal a cursed wound," she said, taking hold of the foot once more and ignoring the pained sound the wizard released. _I wish I could remember his name_, she thought guiltily.

"It won't _heal_ it, exactly. The damaged area will never fill in, but it will close the opening at least."

An image of Mad-Eye Moody came to mind, the numerous scarred divots that marred his body, and she understood. It saddened her to think that this young man would have to live with this damage for the rest of his life. The split muscle on the side of his calf would never heal back together completely, and it would undoubtedly affect his ability to walk and move.

The sadness turned into anger as she thought about _why_ it had happened. She used it to fuel her determination as she did her job, refusing to flinch or allow any leeway, even when the leg tried to jerk in protest at her mother's attention. It hurt him now, but it needed to be done to make him feel better in the long run. She knew a thing or two about that.

When they were finished, he slumped back down. He hadn't actually woken and was no more awake or sleep than when she'd entered, but he still looked more peaceful than before. He didn't stir, the only sound emanating from him now was soft breathing. It gave her a sense of accomplishment and peace, and she moved on to help the next patient with more confidence.

It helped. Focusing on taking care of others made her feel cleaner again, like she was purging some of the evil from her system. It was only when she paused in the lulls between tasks that the disturbing thoughts would begin to creep in again and she would once more throw herself into serving the recovering patients. Keeping meaningfully busy was the key.

Harry found them as Ginny was on her third patient. His expression reflected everything she felt - the sadness, anger, and frustration all rolled into one - as he took in the injured still present. He didn't ask what she was doing or if she was alright. All he said was, "What can I do to help?"

She was grateful he was there, doing this with her. His presence helped as it always did. As nice as it had been to hide away with him in bed this morning, this was what they needed to be doing at that moment. More than that, this was something she needed to do to fix herself. Harry couldn't be the thing that held her together forever.

They kept at it for hours. Her mother giving endless directions that she and Harry followed without question. The worst of the injured had been transferred to Hogwarts, so there were few cases that required intense medical care the way the first wizard Ginny helped had, but it was still emotionally draining.

As the day progressed, however, even that came to an end as the injured either went home or were transferred to Hogwarts for more sophisticated care by Madam Pomfrey. After her mother escorted the last patient out of the room, she and Harry restored it to its normal state, levitating the cots back to the attic and putting the bedding to be washed.

She stared at the clean room, wondering how it was possible that there was no evidence to be seen of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

"You need to eat," Harry said, interrupting her reverie. "_We_ need to eat," he corrected, taking her hand and pulling her from the room.

He seemed nervous as they took turns washing up in the loo, but she couldn't tell if it was the work they had just finished or if she had pushed him too far that morning. She fervently hoped it wasn't the latter, but was having trouble working up the nerve to ask. _Why is talking so hard? _she thought in frustration.

She still hadn't made any progress when they ran into her mum coming back up the stairs.

"Oh! There's nothing prepared. I've forgotten all about lunch," her mother said. "I don't even know what we have left! I need to…" she continued to ramble, but Ginny was distracted by her swift change in demeanor. The contrast between the calm, collected manner in which her mother had tended to the wounded all morning and her sudden anxious state was startling.

"Mum," she interrupted. "It's fine, we're not helpless. We can feed ourselves."

"I can cook," Harry offered. "And we already cleaned up, so all you need to do is let Hermione know and move your own things."

"That's…" her mother struggled, looking flustered. "_Thank you_," she said, the emotion in her voice rattling Ginny. She sounded far too grateful for such a simple thing. It was a sign of just how stressful the previous day had been for her mother as well, as were the tears she had to wipe away after hugging them both. "I'm sorry, dears. Don't worry about me. I always feel better once everything is settled again."

The phrasing struck her as odd. The words spoke of long experience with such things, but this was the first time Voldemort had launched this kind of attack as far as she knew. He'd been keeping quiet since his return, hiding behind the shield Fudge had created with his denial.

She realized her error almost immediately.

It was his first attack since he returned, but her parents had lived through one war already. Although they had too many young children to be active participants in the Order last time, her uncles had been. For the first time, she wondered how many times they came to her mother injured before they ultimately lost their lives. It gave her a new perspective on her mother's emotional outbursts over the years.

"Gin?" Harry asked, rubbing her back slightly and pulling her from her thoughts. Her mother was gone, she realized, having departed during her distraction.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "Just thinking…"

He stepped back. She felt colder for it. "About?"

There was caution in the question that gave her the courage to step forward and wrap her arms around him. She breathed a sigh of relief when he returned the gesture without hesitation.

"About Mum," she replied with her head still resting against his chest. "She used to try and convince Dad to add on to the house. She wanted the master bedroom on the first floor, but he insisted she was being paranoid, that she didn't need to be between us and the doors. I'd never understood the response until now." She felt his confusion and looked up at him to explain. "I always thought she was worried about us sneaking out, but now I think it was a holdover from the last war. She wanted to be between us and the entrances. It's silly really - even with anti-apparition wards, there are still brooms and such - but I think I get it. She never really got over that fear."

He looked off, staring at nothing as he considered it, and nodded. "I can understand that." He tightened his grip on her and he looked back down, his gaze searching hers. "Do you think we ever will?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I hope so."

"Me too."

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time Hermione and her mother joined them in the kitchen, they had prepared lunch.

Well, breakfast for lunch. It turned out there wasn't much left in the kitchen aside from eggs, milk, and the usual staples like flour. Luckily, they both knew how to cook. Breakfast was the logical choice, especially given that they hadn't eaten yet.

The awkwardness from earlier had disappeared after their conversation on the stairs. Their relationship had entered new territory, but hadn't damaged their foundations in any way. Just as becoming a couple had done, the shift didn't change who they were or what they meant to each other, aside from making them something _more _than they had been.

It was a comfort, knowing how well they came together on so many different levels.

She wasn't sure she would ever stop being surprised by just how easily being with Harry came to her. Not that she'd ever really failed to get along with him - with one glaring exception - but it was more than that. It was in the way they understood one another, the way they tried and succeeded together. They still disagreed - still found their priorities misaligned sometimes - but they found a way to compromise and support each other. That, in Ginny's mind, was an incredibly rare gift.

Of course, the little ways in which they worked well together were convenient as well. Even cooking together had been a seamless process, unlike trying to navigate the kitchen with any of her family members. The physical aspects were new, but so far a wonderful discovery as well. Heat swelled as she remembered that morning. _It had been..._

"You alright, Ginny?" Hermione asked, cutting into her thoughts. "You look a little flushed."

Unfortunately, her mother heard and rushed over to her. "She's right, dear. Are you feeling alright?" she asked, checking her temperature with the back of her hand, apparently completely forgetting she had a wand and could cast a diagnostic spell. "You feel alright. Maybe you did too much this morning. Here, I'll make you a tray. Go lie down."

The coddling snapped her out of the embarrassment. Though her cheeks were lit up from all the attention brought on by her reaction to thoughts of Harry, she said forced herself to remain calm as she responded, "I'm fine, Mum. Just the heat from the stove."

"Are you sure it wasn't too much?" she asked again, worriedly.

"I'm sure," she said quickly, trying to avoid looking at Harry. That certainly wouldn't help.

It seemed her body didn't want to cooperate, however, and her gaze unerringly found his when she looked away from her mum. He was giving her an odd look. Her gratitude that he had no skill in Legilimency made her blush intensify, though she tried to smile through it. He smiled back and slid to make room for her next to him.

"What happened this morning?" her friend asked before Ginny had even managed to take a seat.

"We were helping Mrs. Weasley take care of everyone who was still here. They've all gone now, though."

"That's good," Hermione replied with a grimace, moving her food about the plate without taking a bite. After a moment, she added, "I was reading."

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked, beginning his breakfast.

"Just about some of the potions we were working on yesterday." Ginny caught the guilty look on Hermione's face.

"I'm glad," Ginny put in kindly. Hermione shouldn't feel any guilt over that. "You saw what a difference it made yesterday having Andromeda here to help. She might not always be. We need good people who can make them."

Her friend perked up. "I would love to do that. Mrs. Tonks is really talented, and she was very sweet actually. She explained a lot. There is so much to these healing potions, and so many adjustments required when dealing with some of the obscure curses that the Death Eaters like to use. The magic of the curses fight off typical healing spells, but the magic of the potion ingredients is absorbed into the person's system and uses their own magic to help fight it."

"Right," Ginny said. She leaned back as she remembered the leg wound again, no longer hungry. It wasn't just him or any of the others, either, but things from a much more distant past. Even before he became Voldemort, Tom Riddle had done some terrible damage to the innocents who crossed his path. None of them had been lucky enough to have someone waiting nearby with a potion to fix them.

The gentle feel of Harry rubbing the small of her back reoriented her. It was subtle enough that only the two of them were aware that she had needed his prodding to pull her out of the disturbing memories, though Hermione was still looking at her worriedly.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Got distracted." Harry rubbed his thumb in another small circle on her back, keeping her grounded.

"I should have been helping," Hermione said anxiously.

"Nonsense," her mother dismissed as she arrived with fresh tea and joined them. "The curriculum at Hogwarts won't teach you that kind of advanced potion making, and it never hurts to be prepared. Besides, these two had a lie in this morning this morning. You probably got up before they did..."

Ginny couldn't help casting a glance in Harry's direction as she spoke and was pleased to see the look he wore. It was clear that he was trying to hold it back, but there was heat in the way he returned her gaze.

"... putting themselves at risk even! For the sake of joke supplies? But their father says I should let them be…" It was lucky that her mother was still talking about how much more productive Hermione had been than Ron or the twins, all three of whom had gone in to work at the shop that morning and hadn't noticed.

It was only when she turned to Hermione again that she realized the exchange had not gone entirely unnoticed. There were sure to be questions about it later. She pushed it aside for the time being and took a deliberately large bite off her plate. It successfully distracted her friend, whose nose scrunched in distaste as she looked away.

They all jumped when the fire flared green - the events of the day before clear in the tension that filled the air as they waited with bated breath to see who would step through the flames. They simultaneously sighed in relief when Ron emerged. His reddened ears and cheeks were sure signs that he was in a mood, but Ginny was still thankful that it was just her brother and not another emergency.

Ron had barely stepped foot in the room before Hermione looked up. A bright smile bloomed across her face. "You're early!" she greeted happily, her earlier disappointment in herself completely forgotten. "I didn't think you'd be back from the shop for a few hours yet."

Ron sat heavily at the table with them. His bitter expression softened at Hermione's greeting, but his reply was still succinct. "Got sent home."

Ginny couldn't resist jumping at the chance to discuss something light, hoping to chase out the lingering flood of adrenalin his unexpected arrival had brought. "Oh! This should be good. Pissing off the twins is near impossible, let alone enough to be sent home. Do tell how you managed that one," she said with interest. She caught Harry suppressing a grin beside her and turned to send him a quick wink.

"Shut it, Ginny," he spat.

Her mother tutted at their behavior, unamused. "That is enough children. Ginny, do not taunt your brother. Ron, speak to your sister respectfully. Now, how about some fresh lunch, Ron?"

"Sorry, Mum. That'd be great, thanks." He smiled repentantly at their mum, but scowled at Ginny as soon as she turned her back.

Ginny waited until her mother was out of earshot before whispering, "No need to get shirty with me. I'm not the one who got you booted from the shop. You did that all on your own." She and Ron had always teased one another, for as long as she could remember. Nettling him now felt normal. Besides, it really was unlike the twins to send him home. They were the type of people who viewed every disaster as a learning experience - the worse the mess, the better.

"I didn't _do_ anything." He crossed his arms and glared at the cabinets across the room. She just barely caught his muttered, "Those gits wouldn't let me."

"I'm sure you didn't, Ron," Hermione said while giving Ginny a disapproving look. "What did happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ron's face twisted. "There was a reporter sniffing round the shop today. Asking stupid bloody questions about Harry… if I was in on the 'plot' to 'trap' him." His fists clenched and the coloring in his ears spread to his cheeks and neck. "This one did her research, brought up Skeeter's old articles about the two of you. Asked how you felt about having the 'love of your life stolen' or some shite." He crossed his arms. "Woman followed me around the whole bloody store. Going on and on. Some of her questions… she must have talked to some of our classmates to know that stuff."

"It's not surprising," Ginny interjected. "Both Colin and Neville sent letters saying they've been approached." She shrugged. "Makes sense that they wouldn't be the only ones."

"Well whoever talked in a tosser."

A crease formed between Hermione's brows as she looked at Ron. "You didn't do anything rash did you?

"No," he said tartly.

"I'm glad," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "It would be awful if they targeted you too."

Ron blew out a breath at Hermione's touch. Ginny kept all hints of her happiness at their growing closeness off her face, but she saw Harry's raised brows and nudged his foot with hers. She gave him a small smile but shook her head and schooled her features, happy when he took the hint and did so as well.

"Not that I didn't want to," he admitted sheepishly. "Fred and George wouldn't let me."

"Well, it's great Ron's safe. What about Ginny though?" Harry put in sourly.

Ginny contained an eye-roll. It was sweet that he worried about her, but she honestly couldn't be bothered to be concerned by it. "It's not a big deal, Harry."

"It is," he insisted, pinning her with a serious look. "You don't know what it's like, how people treat you, when the media is against you."

"It really isn't pleasant, Ginny," Hermione added, casting a wary glance at her mum as she returned with a fresh plate for Ron.

It gave Ginny pause, remembering the way even her mother had believed Rita's terrible articles during her third year and how poorly her mother had treated Hermione as a result and that was from someone who _knew _her. The people who didn't had been far worse. Ginny had had to help Hermione dress for three days after the bubotuber pus incident. Maybe they had a point.

"What's wrong?" Her mum asked, catching on to the mood around the table. "_Did _something happen at the shop? I _knew _you shouldn't have gone in…"

"It's fine, Mum," both she and Ron said in unison. They exchanged exasperated looks knowing the simultaneous denial would give them away. She'd never let them escape without an honest answer now.

The expectant glare she gave them confirmed it, and Ginny signed in resignation. "We were talking about the things they've been reporting about me."

"Oh." Her mother shifted guiltily. "It is rather unfortunate, isn't it? Irresponsible reporting, if you ask me. There isn't much you can do, I expect. Best to ignore it, dear."

Ginny's intuition flared. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing to worry about Ginny dear. It's all being taken care of by the Ministry," she evaded.

"_What _is being taken care of by the Ministry, Mum?"

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, worry in his tone.

It seemed to break her mother's resolve down. "It really is nothing to trouble yourselves over. There has been some rather threatening mail, but it has all been going to the Burrow first and the Ministry is screening it out. You don't have to worry about it here."

"Sure, nothing to worry about until we go back to school," Harry said darkly. Ginny took his hand in comfort. He sighed and said in a softer tone, "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's alright, Harry." Her mother looked worried as she continued, "I'm concerned too, but we'll work something out."

Harry looked doubtful, but didn't argue. Ginny herself wasn't sure what could be done, but rather thought they had bigger things to worry about anyway. A few rumors and mean-spirited children were nothing compared to a Dark Lord and a prophecy.

XXXXXXXXXX

Percy was already waiting at the table when they entered the kitchen for supper. It was the first she had seen of him all day. The greeting he offered was polite but perfunctory, his body straight as if he were impervious to the exhaustion everyone else suffered from, but the bags under his eyes betrayed him.

Despite the signs of stress they conveyed, his gaze was alert. For as long as she could remember, Percy had always been that way - he lived his entire life standing tall and thinking through every possible outcome. It was a wonder he wasn't an old man by now.

As if there has been a signal she missed, her various family members arrived one after another just in time for the evening meal. First Percy, then her father, followed by Bill (who thankfully arrived alone), and finally the twins. Each one had the same stressed air about them, but they all put it aside as they settled in to eat. She assumed it was for their mother's sake, who was desperately trying to put forth some cheer as she asked each member of her family about their day as if everything were perfectly normal.

She was both saddened by and grateful for the show as everyone made pretend that everything was fine. Saddened because they shouldn't have to pretend. What was the point in fighting if they couldn't find a way to enjoy being together for an hour? They should consider themselves lucky they were all there at all, really. Grateful for the fact that they still tried, despite how strange it felt.

Bill had the decency to wait until the meal was finished and everyone was disbursing before he approached her. "Can we talk?" His tone wasn't angry, but it wasn't apologetic either. It was resigned, as if he knew the conversation was necessary, but was no more enthused about having it that she was.

"Sure," she answered, squeezing Harry's thigh as she got up to let him know she would handle it. She felt his eyes on her as she followed her eldest brother to the other side of the kitchen, but he allowed her to go without following. She saw Percy take her vacated seat before turning her attention back to Bill.

"I'm not going to apologize for taking Fleur's side, and neither of us is going to apologize for what happened," he said bluntly.

"I'm not going to apologize for being upset about it," she said just as resolutely. "It was completely different from anything we'd done before, and she should have been clear about her intentions."

"Yeah, because that's exactly what Dark Wizards are going to do. Give you a warning."

The sarcasm made her snappish. "I expect violation from evil bastards, but not from someone I trust to help me." She took a calming breath and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I understand why she did it and I can accept that, but I'm not ready to resume our previous training with her just yet. We've made decent progress so far anyway."

She watched Bill let go of his own frustration. "Where does that leave us?"

"Same as before," she said with a shrug. "Harry still needs to be able to defend himself properly. I'm not about to risk his safety." Her gaze drifted in his direction as she spoke, thinking about how badly she wanted him to be prepared when the time came. He needed every possible tool to defeat Voldemort, and she'd be damned before she let anything get in the way of making sure he won. The thought of him not winning, of him not being there, hurt too much to even consider.

He was still there, though, safe and sound looking intrigued by his discussion with Percy. Ron was still there as well, except he was glaring at their brother with accusation. Hermione looked conflicted beside him. That couldn't be good.

"We can talk tomorrow," she said dismissively to Bill, not waiting for a reply before making her way over to them.

"... should've known you'd go crawling right back at the first opportunity," Ron was just finishing bitterly as Ginny came up behind him.

"I did not," Percy replied coolly. "If you must know, Dumbledore asked me to pass along the information I collected yesterday."

"Who are we talking about?" she asked, announcing her presence.

She carefully directed the question at Percy calmly, wanting him to know that she would withhold judgement. Ron and the twins may have allowed Percy to re-enter their lives, but they had been giving him a rough time of it. She was trying to bridge the gap by being neutral, if not entirely welcoming. It wouldn't do any good to push him away again.

He answered her question unflinchingly. "Minister Scrimgeour." He shot a defensive look at Ron. "At Dumbledore's request." He turned back to her and calmly added, "He thought it best that we keep the lines of communication between the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix open."

"Did you learn anything?" Hermione asked, curious as ever.

"No," he said, disappointment clear in his tone.

"What good does that do us then?" Ron asked in frustration.

Percy pursed his lips and looked between her and Harry. He seemed conflicted, as if weighing whether his next words were a good idea or not. He must have decided they would do more harm than good, because he finally said, "He did ask me questions, however, and it gave me an idea." The conflicted expression returned and the confidence in his voice wavered for the first time, "I'm not sure you're going to like it. Either of you."

Ron couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, much to her annoyance. "You had an idea or Scrimgeour had an idea?"

Percy's composure broke, finally, and he scowled openly at Ron. "Enough, Ronald. We have bigger things to worry about than your feelings about me. I messed up and am aware of that, even without your constant reminders. I am here now and I am _trying_. All you need to do is shut up and let me."

She was relieved to see him sticking to for himself, and honestly surprised it had taken as long as it had for this to come about. His ruddy cheeks, heavy breathing, and stubborn set of chin as he stared Ron down challengingly were pure _Weasley_, and she couldn't help loving it every time he showed just how like them he was, despite how different he always seemed.

Ron looked ready to argue, but stopped himself at a murmur from Hermione. "You know what? That's fine," he said, standing to leave. "I'll stay out of it. But _I_ haven't forgotten that you told me to abandon my best mate after you abandoned us, and I'm not about to. You don't know the first thing about loyalty."

Hermione watched him worriedly as he turned and stalked out of the kitchen without another word. She offered a small apology before excusing herself and following after him.

Ginny felt a pang of regret for her prior annoyance as she watched him go - his frustration with Percy wasn't without good cause - but she pushed it back. Percy was right about one thing, at least. They really couldn't afford to waste time on hurt feelings. It was why she had set aside her upset with Bill.

When she turned back to her brother, Percy was still watching the door and wearing an expression that said he felt similarly conflicted. She felt for him too. It wasn't easy on anyone.

"So, what were you thinking? And what does it have to do with us?" Harry asked with interest.

Percy cleared his throat. "Before I begin, I would like to preface that I had no idea what to believe of your arrangement before Professor Dumbledore brought me here. I knew that you had been betrothed from Ginny's letter, and that it was the result of an obscure blood ritual that bonded your magic through the will of Sirius Black, but I had no clue as to what the state of your relationship was." His fingers tapped the table and he bit his lip, but he hesitated to explain further.

It made him look guilty.

"Right," Ginny said shortly. Her lips pursed as she eyed her brother. "But you certainly still would have known better than to think so lowly of your own family."

"Of course!" he replied quickly. "_I _would never believe that about all of you. Certainly not of our parents. They love Harry. They'd do anything for him." A thread of bitterness colored his tone, and Ginny felt Harry tense. She had long suspected that Percy was jealous of the way their family had so thoroughly embraced Harry when he himself had always been on the fringes, but Harry likely hadn't a clue. "Not everyone is aware of that, however, and will accept what is printed as truth. If there's anything I learned working for the Ministry, it's that people will believe a well-written narrative, particularly if it's repeated by enough sources."

"I'm well aware of that, thanks," Harry said bitterly. Ginny slid her hand into his and threaded their fingers together to draw his attention. He blew out a breath as he looked at her, the angry tension in his jaw fading as he attempted to return the smile she gave him.

"That!" Percy said enthusiastically, pulling their attention back to him. "That is exactly my point." Harry and Ginny shared a confused look. "No one watching the two of you could possibly deny your connection. We need to make a statement, put the rumors to rest -."

"No," Harry said quickly. "They'll just twist it around against her."

"And staying silent helped you?"

"Speaking up certainly didn't help."

"Didn't it?" Percy gave him an odd look. "I'd say Skeeter's article in _The Quibbler _made quite the difference. The Ministry came under a lot of scrutiny once it was published. There had been very little opposition to the narrative before that."

Harry's expression turned contemplative as he thought it over. When their eyes met, she could see how conflicted he was. He seemed half-convinced, but would follow her lead.

Ginny ran her thumb across the back of his hand. "I get what you're saying, Percy. But in our experience, people believe what they want to. Trying to defend our relationship would only give them quotes to use against us," she told her brother.

"Not if you had someone important backing you," he replied. It finally registered what he wanted them to do.

"So you want us to leverage our support for the Minister's? Over rumors?" she asked dubiously. She still wasn't as convinced as Harry. She had some concerns about the press, sure, but not enough to go head to head with the Minister of Magic.

"No. I want you to do what needs to be done to fix this." he asked, pulling a neatly folded copy of _The Prophet_ from his robe pocket and laying it out. He pointed a long finger at the front page, circling the long article they had seen earlier concerning her and Harry before flipping the page and repeating the process with a much smaller article mentioning the attacks the day before. "This is unacceptable. The media is focusing on all the wrong things, and they won't stop until someone forces them to. Unfortunately, Minister Scrimgeour is resistant to influencing the media at all after the last year. He has agreed to send out pamphlets outlining protective measures, but people need real news. _You_ have the leverage to force him to act."

Somehow, the fact that this wasn't really about her was comforting. Percy wasn't just trying to get back into his family's good graces, but was working toward something bigger. It was something she could respect.

She couldn't help assessing her brother with fresh eyes. They'd never been close, and she'd never really admired him the way she had her other older brothers, but now she could see that he was probably the most well-rounded of them all.

He'd always been smart naturally. They all knew it. He had received so much praise for his intelligence as a child that he clung to it, studying hard to be the best so that he could stand out. As much as all the Weasley children had been loved, they all felt the same drive to do something different, something better than their siblings. Percy's became not only his intelligence, but his maturity as well.

Her overwhelmed mother had latched onto it and allowed him to take on extra responsibility. She didn't blame her mum, keeping the twins out of trouble was a full-time job all on it's own, but it had certainly given Percy the sense that he was above them. Apparently he had liked the feeling, because he'd actively sought out positions of power as he continued to grow.

Despite Ron's earlier words, Percy did know about loyalty, too. He had just chosen the wrong people to be loyal too. He had paid for that mistake, however, and she was fairly confident that he truly had learned his lesson.

She had always known that Percy was as brave as the rest of her brothers, but it was only now that she recognized that he may have been the bravest of all of them in his own way. She couldn't imagine the kind of bravery and resolve it had taken to stand fast to his beliefs even though it meant standing alone. If she were to be painfully honest with herself, she wasn't sure she had it in her to act without knowing that her family would support her.

"I know how these things work, Ginny. Trust me on this, if nothing else," he said, his gaze unwavering.

It hadn't served him well, siding with the ministry, but now that he was back with them, he was proving to be a valuable ally. All the Weasleys were sneaky in their own ways, but Percy knew how the Ministry functioned in a way that none of the rest of them did and was now using that knowledge to their advantage.

"I do," she replied, because she did trust him. "It's just…" she let the sentence hang as she considered it, looking around at the calm kitchen as she did so.

Her mother was now washing dishes, but those hands had been bloody just this morning. There was only one cauldron in the corner, simmering faintly and magically being stirred occasionally, but no one one stood over it any longer. The improvised cutting stations and extra cauldrons were gone, with no evidence it had been there at all. Hermione was moving her things back to her room from the study at that very moment. There was no need for her to stay there now that the final patient had left.

Just like that, it was done. Normalcy had returned to Grimmauld Place as quickly as the madness had descended. She couldn't sit idly by and pretend the tides of the war hadn't shifted, however.

The article concerning her and Harry stared up at her mockingly. It seemed not everyone felt the same way.

She wondered if this is how those not directly affected by the war were able to ignore it. They would undoubtedly see the small news article, feel a moment of fear, and then brush it aside as easily as they chucked the paper and went back to their gossip.

It was easy to lose yourself in the comfort of your own life when the war wasn't touching it. Even Ginny had managed to find temporary peace with Harry this morning. She supposed it was good, necessary even, to prevent the war from consuming her, but she didn't allow herself to get lost in pretending it wasn't happening either. Not like the masses that were speculating about her relationship instead of trying to stop Voldemort.

These people knew, but they didn't really _know_. There were no irreversibly scarred or mangled witches and wizards being treated in the beds they slept in. It wasn't _them_, couldn't be _them_, so it didn't really matter as far as they were concerned.

They needed to _know_.

"What exactly would he want from us?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Their deliberation was rather short, ending with the determination that they should meet with the minister as soon as possible. It still seemed like a risk to her, getting involved in these political games, but Sirius had offered her his name for this very purpose. She couldn't shake the feeling that things like this were her duty now.

It turned out that the Minister wanted to see them immediately. Her mother had put up her typical token resistance, but when it came down to it, even Molly Weasley had to admit that there were few places outside of Grimmauld Place more well-protected than the Minister's office. They still couldn't use the floo system to gain access to the Ministry directly from Grimmauld Place - it would raise too many questions to arrive from an unknown location - so she had agreed with the conditions that they be accompanied by Percy and use the Burrow as a stopping point.

Less than an hour later she and Harry sat side by side across from Minister Scrimgeour in his office. Percy had been ordered to wait outside, but the Minister agreed to see them immediately. She took it as a sign that he had been more desperate for this meeting than she realized.

He didn't look pleased to see them, exactly. He did appear to be intrigued, however, and spent a long moment appraising them upon their arrival. His eyes were blue, but not the clear open kind that her father had. They were the cold, calculating type - hard like ice. She didn't hold it against him. His ability to measure people at a glance had probably served him well as Head Auror.

She was surprised that he spent just as much time analyzing her as he did Harry, though.

It was a bit unnerving, if she were being honest. She was accustomed to people being interested in Harry in general, given who he was, but she was not used to being important herself. There was a hungry look in his gaze as they lingered on both the Black ring and the one Harry had given her that forced her to accept what these things meant - they gave her power, and that made her important to people like him.

She kept her back straight and face clear of the discomfort she felt at the new awareness. Her right hand tightened around Harry's, the only concession she allowed her nerves. There was a tense air about him that only she would notice, but he looked strong and confident otherwise. His strength gave her more comfort than she cared to admit.

Finally, the man's expression cleared and he smiled. It wasn't natural looking, nor did it do anything to make him seem less predatory, but she could tell he had settled on trying to be friendly.

"Thank you for joining me, Mr. Potter, Miss Black," he said casually, further confirming her belief. "I'm glad Mr. Weasley was able to facilitate this meeting on such short notice."

"Certainly, Minister." Harry gave the expected reply, "It's a pleasure to meet you," he lied.

If Scrimgeour noted his lack of sincerity, he gave no outward sign of it. Then again, who was he to judge when his own pleasantries were so false.

"We're happy to be here," Ginny added, giving her best innocent smile. "After all, it's not every day we get to meet someone as influential as yourself." It was a test, really, to better gauge how he intended to present himself. She'd seen more of him in action than he knew

His gaze was piercing, but he sidestepped the statement. "I've been meaning to speak with you for some time, but things have been rather chaotic here." Whether the statement was a question or an accusation, she couldn't tell, but he carried on too quickly for her to question him in turn. "I'm sure you understand. If the papers are to be believed, you've been rather busy yourselves, have you not?"

"I'd hardly consider the papers an accurate source of news," Harry said coldly. She squeezed his hand in caution. They didn't need Scrimgeour on the defense just yet. He altered his tone, but there was still an accusatory note as he continued, "After all, very little was reported on yesterday's events, but we dealt with the aftermath firsthand, and, yes, it did keep us busy."

"Did you now? That's interesting." The words were said lightly, but there was obvious interest in the man's inspection of them. "How is it that the two of you managed to find yourselves in such a situation?"

"I really don't think that's the issue here, sir. I'm more concerned about why Ginny and I were on the front page when the dozens injured or killed in Death Eater attacks were hardly mentioned."

"The press is based on profits, and gossip is more likely to sell papers than scaring people into isolation." He gave them what she guessed was supposed to be a sympathetic look. "Unfortunately, it is out of our hands."

Ginny decided enough was enough. None of them were interested in games like this. "You're the Minister of Magic. Surely, you must have some control."

He gave her a withering gaze, but she kept her expression firm. "I am not yet truly the Minister of Magic, Miss Black. My powers are limited until the Wizengamot approves my appointment at their next meeting." He looked back at Harry. "That's not to say that there aren't other things I would be able to assist you with in the meantime. I understand you wish to become an Auror? I would be able to offer you a recommendation and connect you with a mentor. You could do some shadowing here at the Ministry if you wanted."

"What I _want_ is fair and proper reporting. The people aren't afraid enough, because they don't know how big the threat really is. You and I do," he said firmly.

It was all Ginny could do to keep the smug look off her face. As it was, she was sure the pride she felt in him was showing. If the Minister had expected Harry to roll over and buy his load of dung, he had underestimated Harry by a great deal.

The Minister's lips thinned, though he otherwise maintained his composure. "As I have already told you, the Ministry does not control the press, Mr. Potter."

"We both know that's not entirely true," Harry shot back, irritation in his tone.

"I am not Cornelius Fudge, young man," Scrimgeour said indignantly, finally abandoning his veneer of friendliness. "I do not make backdoor deals and pay the press to print what I see fit."

"Maybe not," Ginny interjected, "but surely you, even as just the acting Minister, have some sway in the information made available to the public. Give them the information they need to print articles of actual value."

His face twitched in irritation, but he responded to her calmly, if not condescendingly. "I do not expect you to understand the risk involved in announcing to Voldemort all that we know about his activities. It has been decided by those with more experience than you that providing detailed accounts of Voldemort's activities will only encourage him to change tactics, leaving us all unprepared for his next attack."

"That's ridiculous," Harry said quickly. "You're risking countless lives for what? He did this last time, yet you weren't prepared anyway."

"People deserve to know what they're facing. Those that lived through the last war need to know that it's started again," Ginny added forcefully before Scrimgeour could begin his rebuttal. She was quickly growing tired of his attempts to play the politician. "They don't need more crap articles about how Harry is working with the Aurors."

Scrimgeour's hand came down hard on the desk, the bang echoing around the room as he leaned forward and pinned her with a hard glare. "Yes they do, girl. That is exactly what they need." He directed his attention at Harry. "Like it or not, you are an important public figure. The public is hailing you as 'the Chosen One'," he leaned back and waved his hand in a frustrated, but dismissive gesture. "The truth of it matters not, simply because they believe it. It is your duty to them to help us win this war. The best way to do that is to support the Ministry publicly."

"Support the Ministry or support _you_?" she shot back in disgust. He really was no different from any of his predecessors.

There was a moment of silence where he bit back whatever his initial response was. The most petty part of her wanted to cheer at watching him struggle. She and Harry may be just children to him, but they also had something he wanted. That made them important and demanded respect. She was begrudgingly impressed with how quickly he controlled himself.

"Let's set aside all illusions. Winning this war is what matters, by any means necessary. Neither of you will be eligible to vote at the next meeting, but your opinions will sway other members of the Wizengamot. Whether or not you choose to support me is of little consequence, so long as you choose wisely."

She found herself surprised by the honesty she heard in his words. Despite his clear desire to use Harry, she truly believed that his primary concern was winning the war, not his position.

"You expect me to believe that you don't care about becoming Minister?" Harry asked skeptically.

Scrimgeour blew out a breath. "No one with any sense would want to be Minister in this climate. The Ministry will just barely be able to stem the tide of evil that Voldemort has unleashed on this country and the people know it. There are things that will be easier for me to accomplish from gaining the position, however. Not to mention that if I am here, at least I know with certainty that the Ministry is not being run by a sympathizer."

She and Harry exchanged a meaningful look. He really wasn't as bad as she had thought. Harry clearly felt similarly, but they couldn't be certain until the lines were clearly drawn.

"If we're being honest, I'm not comfortable agreeing to support the Ministry, or you, unless you can prove that things have changed, that you're worth supporting," Harry said frankly.

Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes and leaned forward onto his elbows, steepling his fingers and staring at Harry in consideration before turning to her. "And you, Miss Black? Does Mr. Potter speak for you as well?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes. Harry is very aware of my feelings on these matters." When it came down to it, she was likely the more difficult of the two to convince.

He nodded a little to himself, as if something had just been confirmed, though she had no idea what that could be.

"The both of you would be welcome to spend time here in the Ministry until term begins. You'll be able to see for yourselves what we're doing here and how we're combatting Voldemort's forces," he offered.

Ginny's temper flared. Being seen in the Ministry regularly was tantamount to endorsing the Ministry. Harry shared her irritation, his body tensing as if holding back his temper.

"We've already talked about that, sir. I'm not doing it," he said with finality. She could hear the forced calm in his voice as he continued, "I've never done anything to give you a reason to suspect me of dishonesty, Minister Scrimgeour. I have nothing to prove to you. The Ministry, however... given my history with your predecessors, I'd say it's fair that you do."

Scrimgeour sighed heavily and looked down. He rubbed his temples a moment before speaking without looking up. Tiredly, he asked, "For argument's sake, let's say that I agree to make a show of good faith. What is it that you would have me do?"

After that, the negotiations went smoothly. The Minister agreed to direct the press in the direction of what had been going on with the war, providing transparent details on the attacks provided that they would not tip off any Death Eaters the Aurors were closing in on. In exchange, Harry and Ginny would allow him to say he had met with them, given that he made a statement in support of them somehow. If he managed to succeed in getting more informative articles published, then they would do what they could to support him when his position came to a vote.

It was far later than she would have liked by the time they were done. They parted civilly, but no one bothered trying to lie by saying it had been a pleasure.

"I'll be in touch," was all Scrimgeour said as he walked them out the door to where Percy had been waiting for them.

Her brother had been pacing, it seemed, and spun around, looking nervous but expectant.

"Everything alright?" he asked, eyes on her.

"Just fine, Mr. Weasley," the Minister answered for them. "We're done for tonight, but I'll expect you first thing in the morning."

"Yes, sir," he agreed.

Scrimgeour nodded to them all in farewell before closing the door, leaving them alone.

"Well?" Percy asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I'll tell you when we get home. As soon as possible, please." She gave the floo there an apprehensive gaze, not looking forward to another two dizzying trips through the flames. "I think we should apparate. Can you side-along us both to the road?"

He gave her a confused look. "Why the road?"

She couldn't elaborate here, where the Minister was likely still listening. "Forget it. We'll just floo to the Burrow and go from there. That's fine too."

The confusion cleared, but he still looked at her oddly before shaking his head. He threw a handful of powder into the flames before calling out the name of their childhood home and disappearing into the swirling green flames.

Harry waved her ahead of him. "Maybe you can catch me when I fall through," he said with a weak smile.

She chuckled in spite of herself. Only Harry could make her feel light after tensely negotiating with the Minister of Magic himself. "Is that the only reason?" she teased.

He smiled fully this time. "No, but that's my story if your brother asks. I'm sticking to it, thanks."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm glad to be home," she said, releasing a soft sigh. It hadn't taken _that _long to fill the rest of her family in on the details of their meeting, but it felt like a long time with how tired she was.

She snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. The soft rise and fall of his breathing accompanied by the steady beat of his heart was soothing after such a long day. Filled with content, she admitted aloud, "This is my happy place."

"Our room?" he asked softly, brushing the hair out of her face.

She let her eyes drift closed as his fingers threaded through her hair, but didn't hesitate as she might have in the past. "Our room. Our bed. With you. All of it," she said softly.

After everything, she was confident that Harry wouldn't shy away from her honesty. He didn't disappoint.

"Mine too," he said softly.

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully, meeting his eyes.

His green orbs were as soft and warm as his voice. "Yeah."

After the day they'd had, she was surprised to find herself so supremely relaxed and allowed herself to slip deeper into the comfort. The silence didn't ring or hang uncomfortably heavy - it was just soothing. As was Harry, warm and welcoming as his limbs tangled together with hers. She knew she couldn't sleep yet, not before performing her Occlumency exercises, but it was still nice to just bask in the easy feelings.

Harry broke the companionable silence after a time. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really impressed by how well you did today."

She opened her sleepy eyes to read his face. "Really? What does that mean, exactly?"

Harry's look was thoughtful, but marred by signs of concern. "Dumbledore said you would need time. That he didn't think you'd ever dealt with the trauma of your first year and you would need time and rest to work through it now." His expression morphed into something resembling awe. "But you just powered through today… you're just amazing, that's all."

She didn't think she deserved the admiration in his tone. "He may have been right," she admitted, thinking of how she had buried those memories as deep as she could back then. "It was easier now though, because I had you."

The smile he gave her was knowing.

"What?" she asked. "Don't tell me he said that too."

He shook his head, but the small smile he still wore was proud. "He didn't, but he did suggest that I should stay close and help you rest."

"I see… so is that the only reason you took care of me? Because the Great Albus Dumbledore said so?" she teased.

He tapped her nose. "No, and you know it." The playfulness slipped away. "I was worried something was really wrong when you wouldn't let me touch you." He hesitated slightly before adding, "You've never shied away from me like that. Not ever."

"I'm sorry," she said guiltily. "It wasn't you, I swear, just…"

"You don't have to explain. I'm not hurt, just worried, and not even that anymore."

She smiled in gratitude. "Does that mean you won't be offended if I say I'm proud of you too?"

"For what?" Harry looked so confused by the praise it was comical and a laugh escaped. It would never cease to amaze her that he didn't know how impressive he was.

"Do you honestly not realize how impressive it is that you successfully negotiated with the Minister of Magic?"

He shrugged dismissively. "It's easy to get people to agree with you when you have something they want."

"I mean it, Harry," she said seriously. "You stood your ground. Even if you don't think it was a big deal, I do. And Scrimgeour thought so too, in case you couldn't tell."

Finally her words seemed to sink in and he rubbed his neck self-consciously. Harry being Harry couldn't just say "thank you" of course and deflected instead. "It's nothing. You challenge Dumbledore just about every time we see him."

Ginny scoffed. "Do not." After a moment's reflection she conceded, "Well, sometimes. But it's different. He's Dumbledore. Not scary at all."

"Not at all? Really? That's why he's the only wizard Voldemort ever feared?"

It was meant to be light and teasing, but she still flinched. It wasn't the name, but the memories that their day had kept close to the surface.

He rubbed her shoulder and squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Guess I'm not that good at comforting after all, huh?"

"You're great at comforting," she answered immediately. "I really don't know what I would have done without you last night." She nuzzled his chest. "Perfect really."

Harry scoffed. "Hardly."

"Hm… maybe not, but some things about you are perfect."

"Is that right?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes. The way you do this," she said, pulling his mouth to hers.

Despite his surprise, he met her enthusiastically, all thoughts of exhaustion and sleep pushed aside as she happily lost herself in him.


End file.
